Legolas and Lily, Part II
by bard of elanor
Summary: The continuing story of Legolas and Lily and their adventures during and after the Great War of the Ring. Please read Legolas and Lily Part I before reading this story.
1. Chapter 1

Legolas and Lily, Part II

_The Continued Fulfillment of the Visions and Prophecies of_

_Lady Elanor Tindómiel of Lórien and Prince Legolas Greenleaf of the Northern Realm_

Chapter 1

Lily rested, cozy and warm, among soft quilts on a low couch in the Golden Hall of Meduseld. Flames danced and roared like triumphant warriors in the fire pit that ran down the center of the hall—indeed, triumphant warriors had celebrated earlier in the evening, drinking to the health of their comrades and the valor of the fallen, and stomping and cheering as the Hobbits Merry and Pippin danced on the rough-hewn tables. It was the middle of the night, now, and the brave Men of Rohan had retired to their homes; Théoden King, his sister-son Éomer, and his sister-daughter Éowyn to their chambers; and the honored guests—Merry, Pippin, Aragorn of the Dúnedain, Gandalf the Wizard, Gimli the Dwarf, and Legolas the Elf—to their quarters. Lily might have dozed off if something hadn't been sounding a warning in the back of her mind, something that wouldn't let her retire with Éowyn to her chamber and relax into an Elf-maiden's peaceful dreams.

The day had been long and eventful. She had awakened before dawn after scant hours of rest in the chamber she had shared with Éowyn at Helm's Deep, allowing herself to relive in just moments the events of the previous night: the rebuilding of the blasted wall that had fallen to the traitorous wizardry of Saruman; her theretofore unknown power to heal the wall as she had so often healed Elves and Men; the blanket of starry elanor flowers and green grass that had covered the battle-bruised ground after she wept, mourning the great losses to Middle Earth suffered at the Battle of Helm's Deep; the precious minutes stolen from grief and duty when Legolas had accepted her betrothal jewel in the shadow of the redeemed land and the starlit wall.

She had had only those few moments to wonder at and savor her memories, for Éowyn was already awake, dressed, and packing. The White Lady of Rohan looked as though she had slept ill, despite her joy at the renewed safety of the fortress and Lily's betrothal. Even in her weariness the princess was fair to behold.

Lily slipped out of bed. "At what hour does Mithrandir leave? I have slept too long."

"And a good morning to you, too, Lily. You don't have much time," Éowyn said. "My uncle has asked me to see our people safely back to Edoras. But I would rather ride to Isengard with you."

"We'll catch up to you, Éowyn. I know you feel like you're missing out, and I'm sorry." Lily put on her traveling clothes and girded her sword at her waist.

"I want to know all about your visit to Isengard as soon as you rejoin us on the road."

"At your command, Lady of Rohan," Lily said with a smile. "It could be quite the interview between Mithrandir and Saruman—we may wish we were distant from Isengard, after all. Have you had breakfast?"

"No, and I doubt there's time for it," Éowyn answered. "I have to see that those still recovering from their wounds are ready to travel."

"Here, try this," Lily said, breaking off a piece of lembas and holding it out to Éowyn.

"What is it?" Éowyn asked, examining the golden, bread-like food and sniffing it.

Lily laughed. "You can trust me. It's lembas, the waybread of the Elves. Try it. That piece will nourish you for the entire day."

"I could certainly use that," Éowyn said, nibbling her piece. "This is good." She took the entire amount in two bites and Lily broke off her own piece and did the same, then wrapped the remainder in the mallorn leaves that kept it fresh. She finished packing and checked her medical kit. "Well, Éowyn, I'll see you by mid-day, or a little later, I think," Lily said, gathering the pack, kit, and her quiver and bow.

"Beware Saruman's voice," Éowyn said, placing an arm around Lily's shoulders. "They say it charms the unwary with flattery and spells."

"I've heard that also," Lily said. "You be careful, too. I think all the awful creatures are far away from Rohan now, but you should send scouts ahead and riders to guard your flanks, and also a rearguard."

"Yes, Éomer told me in great detail. You've convinced him that women need not be defenseless, for which I thank you."

Lily stepped toward the door. "If a Rider of Rohan can be so convinced, then there's hope for all Men. But better to have peace, where no one goes to battle. I'll see you in a while."

"Take good care."

"And you."

Lily went down the stone stairs to the renewed fastness behind the Deeping Wall. Legolas and Gimli were talking near a brown horse and a white horse, but fell silent as Lily came down the stairs and smiled at them. "Good morning, gentlemen," she said, and went to Legolas. She saw her—now his—betrothal jewel on the light chain around his neck, shining against his open-collared shirt. She touched the jewel with her fingertips and smiled up at the Elf.

Gimli said, "May I wish you happiness, Lady Elanor?"

"Thank you Gimli; indeed you may—and I am quite happy." The white horse turned its head and snuffled Lily's shoulder. She stared. "Snowstar? What are you doing here? You should have been in Lórien days ago!"

"She was with the mounts they brought from Edoras," Legolas said. "The Rohirrim must have found her on their way. I saw her this morning and was certain she was yours, so I didn't let them saddle her. And see, this is Arod, who bore Gimli and me from the shadows of Emyn Muil to Fangorn when we tried to find Merry and Pippin—after the Orcs took them."

"Hello, Arod," Lily said, stroking and patting the horse. "Thank you for carrying Legolas and Gimli safely. And Snowstar!" she said, moving to place her hand on the horse's neck. "I'm so glad you are safe." Snowstar nickered softly.

Gandalf came striding toward the group, cloaked in grey, with Théoden King and Aragorn at his side. The great Shadowfax, the king's horse Snowmane, and Aragorn's Hasufel followed behind. "Lily, you and Legolas will represent the Elves, Théoden King and Éomer the people of Rohan, Gimli the Dwarves, and Aragorn will be there for all Men. This business with Saruman is serious and requires witnesses."

"We have all witnessed enough of Saruman's treachery—I hope we witness no more," Legolas said. They all greeted each other as the dawn began to lighten as best it could with the smoke and shadows of Sauron spreading from the East. Lily secured her pack and medical kit, stroking Snowstar and speaking Elvish endearments while she inspected the horse's coat, hooves, and teeth.

"Have we taken adequate care of your horse, my lady?" Éomer said, riding up next to Gandalf.

"You have indeed, my lord, for who knows horses better than the Rohirrim?"

"You and Legolas and Gimli ride behind Aragorn," Gandalf said. Lily swung lightly onto Snowstar's back. Legolas helped Gimli up behind Éomer and then mounted Arod. The Elf pointed to the East. "Behold, the Morning Star! The lovely Tindómiel!" he said. "How beautifully it shines—no reeks of the Black Land can diminish its beauty." He looked with love at the star and then at Lily.

_See this star, Frodo and Sam, _Lily thought, _and have hope that its light will protect you. _She bent her thoughts toward Lothlórien. _My Lady Galadriel! Guide them; keep them safe; help them endure. _Lily looked at the morning star as it faded slowly in the bleak sunrise. In her mind, she saw a vision of Frodo sleeping, wrapped in his grey Elven-cloak. Sam was beside him, Hobbit-sword in hand, sleeping as though he had intended to watch until the night ended and could not stay awake. Most surprising, Sméagol sat at a distance, watching, and appeared to wish he had such friends.

Aragorn turned and looked at Lily. "Many times have I looked to the Morning Star and taken new hope. I had forgotten . . . ." He noted the faraway look on her face. "Lily, can you see them?"

"Frodo and Sam are safe, for now. If what I saw is 'now,' and I feel it is." Lily shivered and pulled her own cloak around her. Her mind was back in the present. "I think the sight of you, Lord Aragorn, will be of great interest to Saruman. You are kingly even in the clothes of a Ranger from the North, my brother."

"Come along, let's begin," Gandalf said, taking his place beside Théoden King. "And remember, don't answer questions or volunteer information. Let me do the talking."

Théoden King looked at the others, his regal demeanor somewhat relaxed, and in good humor. "This party is under Gandalf's command, clearly—and I am glad to have him giving the orders."

The Wizard looked around. "Am I being abrupt?"

"Perhaps a little," Lily said with a smile. "But as it is dangerous to meddle in the affairs of Wizards, as the saying goes, and as there is a Wizard to manage here—not you, Mithrandir, but Saruman; we wouldn't dream of managing you—I think you are the best leader we could have."

"Well then—let's be on our way," Gandalf said, and began to ride. Aragorn exchanged bemused glances with Lily and Legolas, and left the keep behind the Wizard and the King of Rohan.

They rode toward Isengard on the road the Elves had taken to march to Helm's Deep. "This is an expedition of note," Legolas said. "All we need are Hobbits and then representatives of all the Free Folk of the West would be present for this business with Saruman."

"Don't count out the Hobbits yet," Gandalf said, overhearing Legolas's remark. "We may yet find a few on the way."

"Indeed?" Aragorn said. "I would be happy to see Merry and Pippin again."

"They have played their part in the battle against Saruman," Gandalf said. "They brought the Ents into the fight."

"Then they did more than anyone else could have done," Legolas said. "The tree-herds would usually take so much time deciding what to do, it could be too late for them to do it."

"Those Hobbits can certainly surprise you," Gimli said.

"So can those Ents," Gandalf said.

Lily showed the group the flet she had built while waiting to join the Elves in hopes of saving Haldir, whose fate she had seen in vision as she dreamt back in Lórien—it seemed so long ago. Aragorn said the flet looked sturdy, but Legolas examined it from horseback as closely as he could.

"It's rather small, I know," Lily said.

"You weren't building a flet in Caras Galadon," Legolas said. "I'm sure it was exactly what you needed."

"And I'm sure you would have built something better."

"Perhaps. You fastened the rope well. If we came back in a few years, this might still be here. I'm glad you weren't sleeping on the ground."

"Yes—I felt much better when I was safely on my little flet."

Lily quietly told the company how she had followed Gandalf from Lórien until he turned into the forest of Fangorn, then took the road she had known would be the path for the Elves until she found a good tree for the platform where she would wait to join them.

"Were you afraid, with Gandalf not knowing you were there, and no fires, and sleeping on the ground?" Aragorn asked.

"I was so determined to save Haldir, I usually was not afraid. But at night, sometimes, I was nervous. I wished I had someone to talk to and fight beside me, if it came to that."

"Now you do, if it comes to that," Legolas said.

"How did I not sense that you were following me?" Gandalf said. "And how did Galadriel not miss you and seek you out? You were reckless, Lily."

"On the contrary, I was as careful as I knew how to be," Lily said. "I had learned woodcraft and archery and swordsmanship from the best." She thought of Haldir and smiled at Aragorn. "And Galadriel has far more important things to worry about in these dark times."

"I, for one, am glad that Lady Elanor was at Helm's Deep," Théoden King said.

"As am I," Éomer said. "All Rohan owes much to her skill as a healer—and she has made Helm's Deep the secure fortress it was before the battle."

"Hmmph," Gandalf grumbled. He and Théoden King turned onto a road that was wider and better-tended, the road to the fords of the River Isen. Then, after they passed the fords and ridden through the woods for a while, they struck the paved stone road that would lead them to Isengard.

"Here we go," Gimli growled as they rode past the short stone pillars that marked the edges of the road.

The woods were sparse and grew sparser as they approached the Wizard's Vale. Where once had grown orchards and fruitful fields, the land seemed worn and choked with weeds. "This was once like a vast garden," Gandalf said. "Saruman has let the land grow fallow and barren."

"How sad for the families who lived and worked here," Lily said. "Where are they now?"

"Saruman corrupted some to work in his forges and tend his machinery," Gandalf said. "Some even joined his foul army—did you not see the Men among the Orcs and Uruk-hai? The others had to flee into Dunland or seek asylum in Rohan. Some fought with us at Helm's Deep."

"How terrible that Saruman could destroy their lives and livelihood in such a fashion," Lily said. They could see the arms of the mountains that encircled Isengard; above them floated vapors of smoke and clouds of steam.

"An enemy of woodlands and forests—one who destroys but restores or places nothing new where all is bereft—shows himself to be wicked," Legolas said. They passed a black column of rock in the middle of the road; the device of a white hand was marred by what looked like a smear of blood.

"An evil token. We have seen it on the helms of too many of the enemy in recent days," Théoden King said.

"What's that evil _smell_?" Aragorn asked.

"It's like the smell of an unnatural fire, drowned with a bucket of filthy water—but less wholesome," Legolas said.

Lily's eyes caught the slight movement of two small figures as they approached the entrance to the Wizard's Vale. "Merry! Pippin!" she called.

Before them was an entrance, built into a wall of dark rock, its giant iron gates twisted and thrown to one side. Sitting on top of the stones high above the arch that had enclosed the blasted gates were Merry and Pippin, smoking pipes and looking well-satisfied. After exchanging banter with Gimli, the Hobbits told the company that Treebeard was waiting near the former dam of the River Isen. The company could see through the gate that Isengard had been flooded, its pits and caves filled and refilled until the foulness of the place was mostly washed away out the entrance. The waters had subsided now that the Ents had diverted the River Isen back into its course; the ravaged roads to the tower and the dimly gleaming, gritty surface of the land within the circle of black mountain walls remained. It had been carved into dwellings and workshops with windows like black holes of eyes. Debris and pools were scattered about, with some stone pillars left standing, and a few trees—which Gandalf said were actually watchful Ents—appeared outlandishly vertical and alive on the dead, grey plain.

"So the Ents tore down the dam and flooded the evil out of Isengard," Legolas said.

"But they could not wash _all_ of the evil out of Isengard," Gandalf said.

"The Ents—it was they who shepherded the trees into the valley at Helm's Deep, wasn't it, Mithrandir?" Lily said. "That's what happened to the Orcs who survived the battle. The Ents took care that they would not attack again." She shuddered. "I'm glad the Ents and the Elves have been friends from ancient days."

"Some Elves have known the Ents and walked in Fangorn," Gandalf said. "But recently the Elves have been concerned with other matters."

"Still—as a Wood-Elf, I feel akin to all trees, and their shepherds," Legolas said. "I was not afraid of the Fangorn Forest and I am eager to meet the Ents." Places were found for Merry and Pippin to ride with the company as it set out to travel inside the circumference of Isengard toward the north end, where Treebeard waited. "Stay on the path!" Merry called. "These pits and pools hide danger and may be deeper than they look."

"I'm sorry you have to walk in this filthy place," Lily said to Snowstar, patting the horse's neck.

After the ride to the dam through the unclean pools and scenes of destruction, the company was introduced to Treebeard, which seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. Treebeard welcomed them all, and said that he had met Lily's parents many lives of Men past, back when the Elves used to travel to Fangorn. "As you came towards me, I though that you were Celebrian; you look so much like her," Treebeard said to Lily. "But of course she left Middle Earth some time ago."

"Yes, she went to the Grey Havens," Lily said. "But she would be pleased, I know, that you remember her."

The company waited while Gandalf and Treebeard consulted about Saruman and Gríma Wormtongue, who were still in the unassailable Tower of Isengard. The group then rode to the tower of rock: glassy, opaque black, and made so much harder than stone by sorcery that even the Ents had been unable to mar or crack it. A long stair had been carved ages ago by power greater than that of any Wizard and led to the door above the level of the floods. Indeed, the floods and the efforts of the Ents to destroy Orthanc seemed to have had no effect.

Gandalf ordered Saruman to come forth. Reluctantly, the white-bearded engineer of so much destruction stepped out onto the landing at the top of the stairs. Gríma Wormtongue hid behind Saruman's shifting-colored, whitish robes like a cringing child behind his mother's skirts, but without any of a child's innocence. When he saw Gandalf sitting sternly on Shadowfax, and Aragorn and Théoden King behind the Wizard, regally gazing with disdain at Saruman and his minion, Wormtongue disappeared back through the door. Saruman, after looking with apparent sorrow at each member of the company ("and taking the measure of each," Aragorn said later), begged Gandalf in honeyed tones to stop his rebellious ways. Gandalf made no reply and Lily and Legolas heard Saruman's manipulations for what they were. Aragorn stared silent at the base of the tower, but the Elves were surprised to see the others nodding and saying, "Quite reasonable," "This is wisdom," and the like. Legolas quickly set an arrow to his bow. It caught fire as it flew, passed close to Saruman's head, and bounced off the side of the tower, extinguished. Saruman was suddenly angry. "Don't be so quick to let those arrows fly, Elf, lest they turn on you or that witch beside you."

Lily couldn't help laughing. "Saruman, you never had power over the High Elves, unless they chose to come within your influence. If you were still a Wizard you would know that. Or perhaps you think to frighten us with your lies."

This exchange woke everyone from their enchantment. Gandalf quickly raised his hand and spoke a word that caused Saruman's staff break in pieces; the Wizard announced that Saruman was no longer part of the White Council. But he also offered mercy to Saruman and Gríma, and free passage out of Isengard if they would swear to do no more harm.

"You would kill me. I see the malevolence in the eyes of that Ranger, and I know who he is. And when my new master comes to smash the arrogance of the West, I will be his high servant and throw down this Dúnedain impostor," Saruman said, his eyes burning with hate.

"Saruman, your own fantasies have driven you to madness. Sauron does not share power. If he gets what he wants, all who live will be enslaved." Gandalf seemed brighter and taller.

"Be gone, imposter!" Saruman cried. As he moved to slam shut the door, a sphere of glass flew out and bounced down the stone steps, and the company heard Gríma squeak, "Be gone!" The sphere struck sparks from the steps, but did not break. Pippin saw it gleaming faintly in the cloudy water of a pool and slipped off his place on Aragorn's horse to pick it up. He gazed into it; Legolas and Lily looked at each other with alarm. As they both reached out to take the sphere from Pippin, Gandalf took it and wrapped it in his robes. Lily's eyes met the Wizard's, who shook his head slightly, then called, "We'd best catch up with Lady Éowyn and the people of Rohan. These floods and the Ents will keep Saruman and Gríma in their prison."

They rode from Isengard as quickly as they could. After stepping gingerly through the despoiled vale and moving past the woods, the horses were able to run at a good pace across the plains toward the road that the people of Rohan would take to Edoras.

The Rohirrim were sitting in rough meadows, eating lunch as men rode on guard duty around them, when the Isengard party rode up. Éowyn was watching over her charges and keeping an eye on the road they had travelled. The people cheered Théoden King and Éomer as they rode at the head of the group. Lily dismounted to help Éowyn check the wounded and found them and their families cheerful enough and their injuries healing well. "Lady Éowyn," Lily called, "The halls of Rohan will ring with song at your skill in healing."

"Then the song must include you, as well," Éowyn answered. The women finished their task and sat down to rest and have some water and lembas while Lily told Éowyn what had happened at Isengard.

"What was the sphere that Wormtongue threw out the window?" Éowyn asked.

"I would be guessing, and so should not tell," Lily said. "Who knows what a Wizard would have lying about in a tower so secure as Isengard? He did not reckon on the stupidity of Wormtongue."

"Those Wizards are a strange lot," Gandalf said from behind them. He had apparently been listening to them.

"Mithrandir! Must you sneak up behind us like that?" Lily asked.

"Forgive me, ladies. The world is such that you might consider guarding your conversations from 'sneaks' when possible. Not all are as harmless as I am."

Lily looked at the Wizard. "I should be so harmless, my lord."

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "Indeed you should, Lily. And in your own way, you are. Now, Lady Éowyn, how long have your people been resting?"

Éowyn glanced up toward the sun. "It's been an hour and more, now."

"You might consider getting them moving again. It will be late afternoon when we arrive in Edoras and there is much to be done."

"Of course." Éowyn went to Éomer and soon the camp was moving slowly. Gandalf said to Lily, "I'd like to ride beside you here at the back, Lily. I need to know what you've seen. And yes, Legolas and Aragorn can ride behind us. Although I've no doubt Legolas knows more than I do."

Lily looked down and blushed. "Would you have me keep secrets from my betrothed? Oh, Mithrandir, tell me you approve of my choice."

"With all my heart."

"Then I will be even happier than I already am."

As Gandalf and Lily mounted Shadowfax and Snowstar, Legolas and Aragorn rode up to join them. "So, we finally get the benefit of Lily's gift of foresight," Aragorn said.

"It may not be as complete as you'd like. I kept my mind quiet and closed while traveling to Helm's Deep—I didn't want the Lady Galadriel to sense my purpose and try to stop me—and then I was so busy, and then, well, I was thinking of Legolas a lot. I've seen more of what is happening in the world in the past day or two than in all the days since I left Lórien."

"I hope you didn't leave your mind open to Saruman," Gandalf said.

"I did, actually—just a little, to test him—but he no longer knows the thoughts of others. He guesses correctly sometimes, just as anyone would, but he can't do much of anything with his Wizard craft any more. If he hadn't betrayed everyone and been so stupid about his own powers, I would have some sympathy for him. I suppose I should have more compassion, but he's had many years to use his power and wisdom for good, and instead he's chosen evil. I hope he and Wormtongue are taking turns sneaking about, trying to throw each other off the tower. And still, you gave him one more chance, Mithrandir."

"I've come to believe in the power of mercy and giving someone another chance," Gandalf said thoughtfully.

"You'll be interested in this, then. Frodo and Sam are being led through the approaches to Mordor; their guide is Gollum—Sméagol—whatever name the creature uses. They have passed through the Dead Marshes and are moving eastward, traveling at night. The Hobbits are being careful—they do not trust Gollum. Sam has tightened his belt a notch or two, but is sturdy and alert and would give his life for his 'Master Frodo.' Frodo is being weighed down by the Ring and burned by it. It's beginning to affect him, and that will become worse as he's nearer Mordor or actually enters the place. They still have some lembas, although they are tired of eating only that. I've tried to send them all the strength and guidance I can, and I believe Galadriel has, too—but Lórien and Rivendell are closed to me, probably as part of their protection against the Dark Lord."

"Frodo and Sam, still trying to fulfill their promise—and with Sméagol to guide them! I thought he might have a part to play in these contradictory times. Poor Frodo, his burden will only grow greater as he gets closer to the end," Gandalf said.

"But where is Gollum leading them?" Aragorn asked. "Can he know some secret way into Mordor, or is he up to something else?"

"I believe it's out of our hands, now—those who are true will be true, and those who would play us false will follow their own ways. But we can continue to hope for Frodo and Sam; there is much yet to be decided," Gandalf said. "Have you seen anything else, Lily?"

"Just snatches of this or that. Or things I can't name and places I've never been. It would be foolish to accept them as foresight. Although something is happening with Faramir—King Denethor's son? I wonder if Gondor knows of Boromir's death. And I am concerned for the Hobbit, Pippin—the sphere he picked up at Isengard—"

"Let us not speak of that at this time," Gandalf said. "Although you are right to be concerned."

"It seems few destinies are open to my sight, at present," Lily said.

"No one is given to know all fates," the Wizard said. "You've done well, Lily. Aragorn and I should probably ride with Théoden King. If you see something else, you'll tell me?"

"Of course." Lily watched Gandalf and Aragorn ride toward the front of the group. The future king was growing in strength and power; he had wielded his great sword Andúril with valor at Helm's Deep. If Frodo fulfilled his quest to destroy the One Ring and Aragorn led the people of the West to triumph over the Dark Lord—how often she had seen it in her heart—then Aragorn would be the King of Men in an age of peace. But the Elves would continue to leave Middle Earth for their haven in Valinor—would she and Legolas also take the ships into the West? Could Legolas leave Aragorn, at whose side he had fought so valiantly? She could not leave Legolas, she knew, but so many she loved had gone or would go to the ships, including her mother, Celebrian, and her father, Elrond. And what of Haldir, her dear brother?

"What are you thinking about?" Legolas asked.

"I was wondering about Haldir and the others who fell at Helm's Deep," Lily said. "Since those Elves who do not take the ships to Valinor, but die here in Middle Earth, are said to wander beyond the Sundering Seas—where are the Sundering Seas? _Sunder_ means 'to divide.' Could the Sundering Seas not be the seas between Middle Earth and Valinor? And 'beyond the Sundering Seas' is Valinor, so will they be waiting for us in Valinor?"

Legolas thought a moment. "Then why would there be two different names for the places we speak of when we think of those who die in Middle Earth and those who sail to Valinor? It seems unnecessary, if all the Elves will be in the same place, to call it by two different names."

"I don't know. Maybe some bard put 'beyond the Sundering Seas' in a lament long ago, and a tradition grew up around it, as being a different place from Valinor. The lay of Lúthien Tinúviel and Beren speaks of the Sundering Seas, but they are reunited at last."

"I hope you're right. Perhaps Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn know."

"I think it will be a long time before we see them."

A boy yelled, "Edoras!" and everyone looked forward and up to the glint of gold on a massive outcropping from the foothills.

"That gold is the roof of Meduseld, the Golden Hall," Legolas said. "It may not seem kingly to someone from Lórien, but if you liked Helm's Deep, you'll probably find it cosy enough."

"I'm sure it's fine," Lily said. "There are many kinds of beauty, and I haven't made a habit of seeking luxury."

"No," Legolas said with a smile, "I've seen your luxurious flet. You seem to keep very busy, my love."

"Busy talking, Haldir would say. Would have said." Lily looked at Edoras as it drew closer. "I hope these people will find their homes as they left them. I understand Aragorn urged Théoden King to stay and fight."

"There are others than Saruman who may have plundered the Golden Hall, as it was left unguarded."

"Let us hope all is well," Lily said, as Snowstar began to climb the road to the flat mountaintop where Edoras had been built. Close behind it on two sides were the White Mountains with snow at their summits; hanging beneath the snowcaps was a bank of clouds, dark grey and roiling like waves. They passed the mounds of the Kings of the Mark, with the ever-blooming Simbelmynë flowers like a memory of snowflakes on the grassy tombs. "You know, Legolas, I have never seen the sea. I know we are supposed to be drawn to it, but right now I believe I love the mountains and forests and woods so much, I could not possibly love the sea more."

"I have yet to see the sea, either, but expect that when it is my time to seek out the ships, I will be drawn to it as I know other Elves have been."

"When it is 'your time,' I will be there with you. At the Bay of Belfalas or the Grey Havens, I will be there."

"Yes, you must. Because I can love no mountain or tree or inlet more than I love you." A cold wind breathed a warning at the travelers; then the sun shone and the day grew fair again. "Right now, my lady, autumn draws near its end and winter will soon be upon these lands. I wonder where we will be when spring comes."

Lily envisioned Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli stepping from within a mountain, followed by many Men of a shape and character she could not discern—but in her vision, the sun shone from the South on their uplifted faces. "Perhaps you will enjoy the warm weather for a while longer," she said.

Before Legolas could ask what she meant, they topped the road and came to the paved way that marked the entrance to Edoras. The houses seemed empty, deserted, but no sign of disturbance or plunder was evident. People hurried to their homes, and Gandalf, Théoden King, and the other noblemen, as well as Éowyn, Gimli, and the Hobbits, handed the reigns of their mounts to stablemen and began the climb up the broad stairs to Meduseld, the Golden Hall. Guards went ahead, bowing to the king as they passed him to secure the entrance to the Golden Hall.

"It appears that no plunderers climbed the road to see if the place was guarded or not," Legolas said as his horse, Arod, stopped near the base of the stairs. "I hear no shouts of dismay that the valuables are gone; things look to be as we left them."

"Every creature for many leagues around was drawn to the battle of Helm's Deep, no doubt." Lily slid off Snowstar's back. A spring of water flowed clear from a fountain carved in the shaped of a horse's head, channeling the snowmelt from the White Mountains into the stream the flowed through Edoras on its way to join the River Entwash on the plains far below. But the stones where the fountain emptied were marked with rivulets of mud. "What this place needs is a good cleaning. They should have called Wormtongue 'grimy Wormtongue,' not 'Gríma Wormtongue.' His deception and treachery to Théoden King and to Rohan left the people without pride or strength until Mithrandir brought his influence; there's a dark layer over everything. Even the roof of Meduseld looks like it could use a scrub."

"This place could indeed use a 'scrub,'" Legolas agreed. "And after their victory at Helm's Deep, Rohan has regained its pride and glory. The city should reflect that."

A young man appeared at Legolas's side. "I'll take your horse to the stable, sir. And my lady,"

"Oh—thank you," Legolas said, dismounting. Legolas and Lily each whispered Elvish words in the horses' ears and the young man looked puzzled that the horses had no saddles or other tack.

"It's all right," Legolas said. "Just walk toward the stable and they'll follow you." And so they did.

Éowyn came out of the door of Meduseld, high above. "There you are!" she called. "I knew Elves couldn't get lost. Come up, come in."

The long fire pit was already dancing with welcome flames in the stone hall, and Lily admired the tapestries that hung to honor the Kings of the Mark, passing one on each side for every three strides she took. "Éowyn," she spoke, and the lady came to her side. "Should we check the wounded, do you think?"

"They know where we are," Éowyn said. "Perhaps we should go around after our evening meal and see that everyone got home all right and has no need for food or other help—the nights grow chill, and the wind off the mountain snow can seem to blow through the walls. You'll share my room?"

"Of course—I'd be happy to do so. Although I wish I could stay with the Fellowship—something is wrong there; I feel it."

"Surely Gandalf and Aragorn can deal with whatever it is," Éowyn said. "Better to be in a warm bed than wrapped up in blankets on the floor—we try to give comfort and hospitality to our guests, but where so many desire to remain together, our choices are limited. They'll be in a drafty barn compared to my chamber in Meduseld."

Lily nodded. The two women moved toward the others, who were reliving the earlier parts of the Battle of Helm's Deep for the benefit of Gandalf and Éomer. As the sun set and night came, the tales of the battle went on. When serving-women brought food and ale for the increasing numbers in Meduseld, the stories alternated with toasts to the valiant fighters who lived and those who had died. Legolas raised his mug to Lily when the Elves were mentioned, and she, seeing him across the room, put her hand on her heart and bowed. Then she and Éowyn went to check that those who had not come to the Great Hall were safe and comfortable in their homes. Afterward, Éowyn returned to attend Théoden King, while Lily, wrapped in her grey Elven-cloak, went to stand at the edge of a stone precipice that gave a view of the stars toward Lórien. She tried to reach Galadriel with her mind, but a protective cloud lay over the Golden Wood. Then she relaxed her mind, willing what would to come, and traveled in thought to the brown hills by the gates of Mordor, where Frodo and Sam trudged on, following Gollum, but she could not see the end of their path. Her mind went next to Minas Tirith, the White City of Gondor gleaming in the starlight. In a tower high above the city Lord Denethor leaned over something. He had been kind to her in earlier days, but now he looked preoccupied, even obsessed, and his hands shook as he stared into—Lily's breath caught in her throat—a sphere of crystal like the one Gríma had thrown from the Tower of Isengard. Lily heard a voice forbidding her to see what Denethor saw in its depths, and she wrenched her mind away with a low cry. Aragorn, who had been walking toward her, ran to catch her in his arms as she swayed against the wind above the precipice.

"They are palantíri," she whispered.

"You saw the one we have? Another one?"

"Another." Lily laid her face on Aragorn's chest and felt his strong arms around her. "Denethor has one at Minas Tirith. Sauron has turned it to his own uses, but the Lord Denethor doesn't know that. He thinks he sees the truth. He has no hope. He is not himself."

"Did you see what the palantír communicated? Did it see you?"

"No. I heard my father's voice, commanding me to take my mind away. But as I did, I saw the Nazgûl, on flying beasts, circling the towers of the White City. Oh, my brother! Your kingdom will be difficult to win."

"We have always known that."

Lily looked up, thoughtfully. "Frodo and Sam seem to be all right, although I can't see where they are going. They must soon find a way into Mordor if Frodo is to complete his task."

"We should tell Gandalf what you saw."

"Just let me breathe a moment," Lily said. Aragorn let her step away, and she held her hands up towards the sky and opened herself to the clean wind off the snow-topped mountains while chanting something about the stars under her breath. When she opened her eyes and turned to Aragorn, she said, "I have hope, and so should you, for you shall be crowned King of Men, my brother."

"You saw that?"

"I have seen it many times. But the path to that hour will be dark and require all the strength of your heart and mind. I know that our choices determine our fates and that what I see could, in the end, not come to pass—so much depends on the thoughts and actions of so many, you not the least and Frodo perhaps the most. But I have hope, and you must always choose hope, Aragorn. In hope, at last, Arwen will be at your side and you will wonder if some of the worst times were nightmares, dark mists that finally blew away on a fresh breeze." She took Aragorn's arm and they walked toward the door of the Hall.

"You've never told me this before."

"I have not believed it to be the right time before. Nothing has come easily to you, Aragorn. I mean to remind you of difficulty ahead and give you a measure of that hope on which you must depend, and of comfort. You have all you need within you to choose your destiny, and friends around you."

"But if Frodo does not complete his quest—"

"Frodo's fate is in Frodo's hands—the fate of Middle Earth is in Frodo's hands—but I cannot think of a better bearer of our fate than our humble, dear Hobbit-friend, and his faithful Sam loves and guards him well. Your faith that Frodo was the proper Ringbearer helps give him the will to continue. Never despair, Aragorn. You always have the strength for another attempt while you live."

"I will remember that, and take as my example the Lady Elanor of Lórien."

Lily's laughter caused heads to turn as they walked into the torchlit hall. Gandalf turned and thought for a moment that he saw Aragorn as a younger man, less careworn, and with him the ever-radiant Arwen of Rivendell, the Evenstar of her people.

"Only the Morning Star," Lily whispered, reading the Wizard's mind. Legolas heard her.

"The brightest and most beautiful star to me, new with each dawn," he said, smiling at the courage that lit Lily's face.

Aragorn spoke quietly to Gandalf and then Wizard, Elf, and Elf-maiden accompanied him to a room off the Great Hall, where they discussed what Lily had seen. She and Aragorn did not reveal her confidence in his triumph. Most of the talk was of the palantíri, Denethor's near-madness, and Frodo and Sam.

"We should pull Merry and Pippin away from their dancing and singing, however it may amuse the Rohirrim, and get some rest," Gandalf said. "We mustn't celebrate before the victory is truly won."

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli went to gather the Hobbits and Lily sat on the floor and leaned her head against Gandalf's knee. "I'm so glad you're not dead," she said. "Of course I'm glad you're not dead! But I think you may hold the power that will lead to our final victory."

"Courteous of you to say, my girl. I was thinking how nice it would be to have a smoke and a quiet mug of ale at the Prancing Pony in Bree. I don't want that power."

"It is not yours entirely. You share it with Frodo and Aragorn and so many others who are with us on the edge of this knife that we call our task. But if you wanted a quiet life, you should have stayed away from Hobbits and ringlore, and especially the Mines of Moria."

"And you should be playing your harp in the Great Hall of Caras Galadon. We both seem to know how to get ourselves into trouble, Lily. Do you know where we'll be sleeping—where to find us if you need us?"

"Yes, although I feel left out not to be staying there with you all. Éowyn didn't understand that I would prefer your quarters to a cosy bed in her room. I do feel uneasy. Something's going to happen, and perhaps I could help if I were there."

Gandalf placed his hand on her head. "Do you know what this something is, or when it will happen?"

"No. But something will, sometime soon."

"Something like all the hellhounds of Mordor unleashed against us? I can foresee that."

"No, something smaller. Something that could have a small effect or a great effect."

"Well that helps a great deal," Gandalf said with irony. "Your gift is a bit fickle, Lily."

"Lately, yes." Lily heard Aragorn's laugh in the passage and stood. The members of the Fellowship entered the room and Gandalf rose, as well.

"I'll bid you goodnight, then, gentlemen," Lily said.

They exchanged goodnights and Lily went and gave each Hobbit a hug. "I'm so happy to see you and to know that you're all right, Pippin and Merry," she said. The two sobered up and courteously responded as the members of the Fellowship left Lily standing in the Great Hall.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Lily nestled in the warmth of the quilts in the Golden Hall, reliving the day. She thought her mind had lead her to a vision of Gandalf roaring in anger and Aragorn pale with concern and Pippin—afraid, of Gandalf of all people, but Pippin was also hurt, in body and mind. Then Gandalf's anger became audible and she knew that the thing she had been uneasy about had happened as she dreamed before the fire. She threw off the quilts, feeling a sudden cold as all comfort fled, and ran for her medical kit in Éowyn's chamber, where the White Lady slept soundly. Lily quietly stepped into the corridor only to discover Gimli, his fist poised to knock. Lily shut the door behind her and pulled on her cloak while Gimli walked beside her, the medical kit in one hand and a torch in the other.

"Great stars above," Lily said, walking quickly as she smoothed her hair. "Does Mithrandir intend to wake all of Rohan? What happened?"

"Pippin got hold of that glass ball that Gríma pitched out the window, and apparently saw something he shouldn't, my lady," Gimli answered.

"The palantír!" Lily said. "Hope with all your might that Pippin was not tested beyond his strength." She pushed open the door to the room where the Fellowship had slept and held it for Gimli to follow. Lily went to the raging Wizard and took his hands. "Stop this yelling, my lord; no doubt Saruman and Wormtongue can hear it—and they'll laugh at our folly." Gandalf looked up at a sterner Lily than he'd ever seen before. "Now, breathe." Gandalf fell silent and Lily turned to study the faces in the room. "Where is the palintír?"

Aragon said quietly, "I have it." Lily nodded and turned to look at Pippin, who had been crying and was cowering on the floor as though he feared her. "Dear Pippin," she said taking her medical kit and going to sit beside him on a pile of straw. "I suppose you've had more than enough of being told what a fool you are, not to mention the fright of your life." Pippin nodded and tried without success to hold back tears. Lily gave him a hug and began rummaging in her kit. "Legolas, would you please go to the stable and ask that Shadowfax be brought? I believe Mithrandir and Pippin will be taking a journey in a little while."

"Of course," Legolas said and left the room.

Lily poured water into a bowl, heated it with her hands—how often that special gift of warmth had helped her in her work as a healer—and dropped the herb athelas, along with a small bit of Celebrian's herb, into the steaming water. Immediately the room filled with a calmer spirit and a clean air. Pippin looked much calmer, standing in the circle of Lily's arm and breathing the healing scent.

"Has he been questioned?" Lily looked at Gandalf and Aragorn.

"Rather roughly," Gandalf said.

"Ah. Well, let's take a look at you, Pippin, and see if you've been injured by these events." Lily studied Pippin's hands and frowned. "Yes. Merry, please pack up Pippin's things, won't you?" She placed her hands on Pippin's head for a short while, then frowned and shook her head at Aragorn. "There's very little I can tell you. Here, Pippin, let's dip your hands in this bowl—it's cool enough—and they'll stop burning and itching." Pippin did as Lily asked, and she took the bowl and her container of water to an outside door to toss away the contents of the bowl and rinse it out. She filled it again, heated the water, and refreshed the herbs. "I think you need to ask him again, Mithrandir, and Aragorn. Shall I hold your hand, Pippin? Then you can't feel that you're slipping away. I can prevent that from happening, at least."

Pippin whispered, "Please." Legolas stepped back into the room, and Lily watched Pippin while he was questioned, with greater calm, by Gandalf and Aragorn. Pippin buried his face in Lily's shoulder when they were finished. Gandalf said, "He holds nothing back that I can discern," and Aragorn agreed, "No lie dwells within him." Both looked at Lily and she smiled.

"He is still our Pippin." She pulled away and looked in Pippin's eyes. "And I think he has learned, while he may know much about Hobbits, that some aspects of the lore of Middle Earth are beyond his strength. Indeed, they are beyond the strength of all but those whose destiny it is to control them."

"We'll be going to Minas Tirith with all the speed Shadowfax can muster," Gandalf said, standing and beginning to gather his things.

"I'll get some food and drink for the journey," Lily said, wrapping her cloak around her and picking up Mithrandir and Pippin's waterskins. "I wish we had some more lembas. I gave away all I had on our journey today. It's a wholesome food for those wounded in body or troubled in mind."

"Ours is gone, too," Legolas said. "What little we had left, we gave to Lady Éowyn—she also wanted it for the injured people in the train of Rohan."

"I'll light your way, my lady," Gimli said, taking a torch once again, and they left Merry explaining to Pippin that only Gandalf and Pippin would be leaving for Gondor.

"What does this mean, Lady Elanor?" Gimli asked as they walked through the halls of Meduseld. Despite the uproar in the Fellowship's quarters, Edoras seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

"I cannot see with certainty, Master Gimli," Lily said. "It may be that Gandalf and Pippin will arrive at Minas Tirith at a fortuitous time, and thus the Enemy's tools will have turned to work for us. If the Dark Lord learned more than we think from seeing Pippin in the palantír, then our story may end in darkness, but my heart does not believe that is true. One thing gives me satisfaction—the Dark Lord thinks there is a Hobbit at Isengard, because he thinks that palantír is at Isengard. He will send a servant, probably a Nazgûl, to collect him. I almost feel sorry for Saruman."

"But only almost," Gimli said. "Pippin will not be the only one to learn about the misuses of the lore of Middle Earth, I'm thinking."

Lily shuddered. "Perhaps you could get the water, Gimli, and I'll see what's to be found in Théoden King's larder."

By the time they brought the supplies to the paved courtyard of Edoras, Gandalf sat tall on Shadowfax's back and Pippin was well bundled in front of him. Lily handed up the provisions to Gandalf.

"We shall meet again," Gandalf said. "Take care of each other. Evil is coming, but is not yet before us. Courage! Fly, Shadowfax!" The white horse leapt forward, surefooted, and disappeared into the darkness as he ran down the steep road from Meduseld.

"The road to Minas Tirith lies many leagues before them," Aragorn said.

"It seems all roads lie many leagues before us," Lily said. "We will not stay together, I think. Yet there is a promise of fellowship and even stronger friendships, whatever the end."

"Then we will be true to that promise," Legolas said, putting an arm around Lily. "Look! The faint edge of dawn shines on the horizon, and the morning star, set in the deepest blue, waits to be enveloped by the light of the sun."

"And thus extinguished," Lily said.

"I never knew an Elf speaking poetically who didn't make you hopeful and sad at the same time," Aragorn said. "And High Elves are the worst."

"I thought that was sort of cheerful," Lily said.

"Until you extinguished yourself," Legolas said. "Have you something to tell us?"

"No. I was just being logical," Lily said.

"More star-wise, I'd say," Aragorn said.

"Hobbits sing about food and ale and dancing, and tell good jokes," Merry said. "That's what we need, not all this talk of stars, begging your pardon, Lady Elanor."

"Aye, my friend," Gimli said.

The town was stirring as the sun rose higher. "I should tell Théoden King what has happened," Aragorn said.

"Éowyn and I were going to organize some cleaning and repairing for the town—Gríma Wormtongue didn't take just the king's strength away; he took much of the pride of Edoras," Lily said. "We're going to make this place sparkle and help people get back pride in their home and kingdom. All future kings, High Elves, Master Dwarves, and worthy Hobbits are invited to assist."

"You mean after breakfast, my lady?"

"Yes Merry; I do."

They watched as Aragorn walked slowly up to the doors of Meduseld and was saluted by the doorwardens. "We'll have to give him a mighty task, I think." Lily shivered. "After the sun comes up."

They also walked up to the Golden Hall and were grateful to sit by the fire and eat a filling breakfast accompanied by warm drinks. Eventually they were joined by Éowyn, Éomer, Aragorn, and Théoden King. Merry took this as a sign that he should join the newcomers in an additional breakfast, "to be companionable," so the others stayed and asked the king what he thought of the plan for the day's work. "I think it's a good idea," Théoden King said. "If we leave this place, we leave it at its best. Should we stay and meet the fight here, the songs will tell of the last fight before the Golden Hall, brighter than ever in sunlight and moonlight."

"Or, my liege, perhaps we should be gathering the men to go to the aid of Gondor?" Éomer asked.

"Should Gondor need our help, they will light the beacons," Théoden King said, tearing off a hunk of bread from the loaf set before him.

Éomer glanced at Aragorn. "We know that our friends in Gondor are already facing a siege, and soon, from the armies of Mordor. We are pledged to lend them aid."

"Then let them light the beacons—and let me break my fast in peace."

Aragorn, Lily, Legolas, Éomer, and Éowyn excused themselves and went outside. They raised their faces to the sun. "We'll have a warm morning, at least, in which to work," Lily said.

"I don't understand why the king doesn't take this opportunity to call the men, at least as far as Dunharrow," Éomer said. "He knows we'll go before long."

"Perhaps," Legolas said. "But he was unmanned by one Wizard, deceived and weakened by the traitor Gríma, and had the spell broken by another Wizard; since then has been ordered about—politely—by Gandalf and indirectly by Aragorn, to whom he will someday owe allegiance. He has seen the power of the Elves, even a lady of the Elves, when he did not know what to do next. Perhaps he needs some time to think his own thoughts."

"And to mourn Theodred," Éowyn said. "He has not had time to mourn the loss of his son."

Éomer shook his head. "Well, I don't mind taking a few polite orders from these Elves. What is my part in the scrubbing of Edoras?"

Lily smiled at him. "I thought—and this is an idea, not an order—that you and Éowyn could go from house to house and explain the plan to your people. You could arrange to have those who are sick or wounded to be taken to Meduseld, where they can be tended all together. And then Aragorn, not as a leader but as one of the men, could help remove the old thatch from the roofs and replace it with new thatch. If there's enough straw for the thatch and also to last as needed through the winter. And if you know how to thatch a roof, Aragorn."

"There is enough, lately harvested before we left for Helm's Deep," Éomer said.

"And I am able to help thatch a roof, though no better than a man of Rohan who replaces his roof every year," Aragorn said.

"Excellent," Lily said. "After Éomer is finished going among the houses, he can organize the roof-thatching, and Éowyn can organize a group to take down and clean the tapestries in the Great Hall while the women clean their homes inside. After the thatching is done, and the cleaning indoors, the sick can be moved back to their homes and we can finish cleaning Meduseld inside. Éowyn may need to get Théoden King out of the way, if you'll excuse my saying so."

"When did you think of all this?" Aragorn asked.

"During breakfast, I think. Why?"

"I have battles to plan; perhaps you could organize things for me."

"Nonsense, Aragorn. You planned the battle at Helm's Deep quite well." Lily reached up to place a hand on his shoulder. "But seek me out if you run into a tight spot."

Aragorn laughed. "I will, my lady."

Gimli and Merry had stepped out of Meduseld. "And what task would you have a Dwarf and a Hobbit do, my lady?"

Lily smiled. "If you try to make yourself useful, and don't scorn any work, I believe your services will be much in demand, Gimli. You, too, Merry. Anyone who's bending over or on their knees would gladly give the job to you."

"And what are the Elves to do? You haven't assigned your own task," Aragorn said.

"Lily and some of the young people of Rohan and I are going to clean the roof of Meduseld; there will not be a flake of gold missing when we finish," Legolas said. "It will shine as it did on the day when it was built."

"You could easily fall from the roof," Éomer said.

"They can walk on top of the snow," Merry said. "Well, I've seen Legolas do that."

"Not to worry," Legolas said. "Neither of us is inclined to take foolish chances. We don't intend to climb around on the roof of the Golden Hall."

Aragorn wrinkled his nose. "You, Legolas, are not inclined to take foolish chances—I'm not so sure about Lily."

"No time for jesting," Lily said. "I don't like the look of the clouds gathering over the mountains."

"Then I say let's get to work. This is what the people of Rohan need," Éomer said, and Lily saw him as though he were already King of Rohan, and wondered why she thought so when Théoden King was only a few steps away in Meduseld.

Lily went to her room. On the theory that if athelas would clean clothing, it would perhaps help clean the roof, she placed an amount of the long-leafed herb in a bag, thinking that she should look for more and replenish her store as soon as she could. Her supply of Celebrian's herb was woefully small, but she knew it did not grow outside Rivendell and Lorien. Wondering if she would see the Elvenhomes again, she went to the kitchen—where the servants were already moving things to clean neglected corners and starting to polish old servingware—and asked for large, soft cleaning cloths, as many as they could spare.

Legolas, meanwhile, had sent a few of the youths of Rohan to the woods to cut long poles of trees, which they lashed together to be tall enough to reach the roof. The Elves and young men then cushioned shorter pieces of wood with the cleaning rags and lashed them to the ends of the poles. Lily sent for a cauldron of clean water; they lit a fire under it and added a mild soap and some of the athelas and let the mixture heat. Legolas dipped one of the "cleaning wands" into the water and tested it on a corner of the roof—the grime came away and the gold didn't, much to everyone's relief.

"How did you know this would work?" Lily asked.

"That roof has withstood storms and wind and all manner of weather. I thought it could stand a little soap," the Elf replied, pushing his wet hair—which had caught some drips of soapy water during the experiment—back from his forehead. Soon the Elves and their assistants were using several of the long wands to gently scrub the roof as high as they could reach. As they did, the sun shone on the newly bright sections and people stopped on their way to their tasks to appreciate the rediscovered beauty of their Golden Hall.

The cleaners stood on ladders to reach all the way to the ridgepole while Lily and others replenished the soapy athelas water, kept the fire going, and brought clean water for the workers to drink. Legolas jumped lightly from a ladder to the ground and stepped back to view their progress. Much of the morning had passed but the work was almost done.

Lily handed Legolas a piece of bread, spread with butter and honey, and a cup of water. "Have you noticed that it's getting colder and the clouds are lowering?" Lily said. "Soon the sun won't make the work seem so impressive—the gold will have to shine by cloudy light."

"A good rain would do this roof good, after we're done," Legolas said, thanking Lily for the refreshment and indicating to others that they should take time to eat and drink, too.

"Unless it washes away two Elves with the rest of the dirt. Let's finish this and get indoors before the storm comes."

"How's the new thatching coming on the roofs of the houses? I hope it's done before the rain begins," Legolas said.

"I hear that Éomer challenged the men to a race—not just of speed, but of quality. I believe they've done with their own roofs and are working together to see that homes with lost or injured men get new thatch, as well."

"Edoras will shine with good will as well as gold," Legolas said, placing one hand on a ladder and leaning down to give Lily a honey-tasting kiss. Then he raised his voice: "Let's get this done and help with the new thatch for the houses! There's a storm coming!"

The workers finished the roof and went to help with the thatching; Lily went to check on the injured that had been brought into Meduseld while the work was proceeding. Éowyn was supervising in the hall, where the tapestries had been washed earlier in the morning and laid out to dry in the sun. She was just asking that the tapestries be brought back inside and the fire be built up in the newly swept, huge fire pit as Lily came inside.

"I believe we can send the injured home," Éowyn said. "Yours was a good idea, Lily, to freshen and clean Edoras before autumn and winter set in. It was the custom here to do that, long ago—perhaps before Wormtongue cast his spell us."

"Rohan is renewed, then," Lily said. "Let's get the people moved into their homes—we may all need healers if the rains come and we're caught out in them."

They saw that the people were safely in their homes and well-supplied before returning to the Golden Hall. "Meduseld was already beautiful," Legolas said. "I hope we improved it." They stood shivering and waiting while Éomer called for blankets and warm drinks, which helped their recovery greatly. Aragorn came in and took a blanket and mug for himself. "Everyone has a new roof and the rain is running off just as it should."

Éowyn came in. "Everything looks wonderful, except perhaps our Elf-friends. Lily and Legolas, what happened to you? You usually look so fresh, despite the worst circumstances." Lily and Legolas looked at each other; their hair was plastered to their heads and their clothes spotted with soap, water, and greenish specks of athelas. Legolas bowed. "Lily looks as lovely as always," he said.

This evoked a muffled snort from Gimli, whose face was almost hidden behind a mug. He began to choke a little. "Forgive me, ladies," he said, wiping his hand down the front of his shirt. "Of course, Lady Elanor always looks fresh as a new blossom." Lily rolled her eyes in what Galadriel would have scolded was "a gesture unworthy of a lady of the Elves."

"You are very gallant, Gimli," she said. "As are you, Legolas, but if my appearance mirrors yours in any way, I think 'drowned rat' is the better description. Between the rain and the water for cleaning the roof, we got a bit soaked, I guess. I'll be all right."

"Only if you go and change out of those clothes," Éowyn said sternly. "You all look like some dry, warm clothes would be a good idea. Then luncheon."

Lily stood meekly and began walking toward Éowyn's room. "Yes, my lady," she said humbly. Éowyn was right and Lily was happy to change into dry clothes. The others stood and bowed and went to obey Éowyn, as well.

The workers' retreat indoors was timely, just as the cold rain began to fall in sheets among the firelit homes of Edoras. The guests, along with Théoden King, Éomer, and Éowyn lunched before the fire in the Great Hall, although Éomer seemed troubled. He went to look out at the rain, and Aragorn joined him in looking up at the heavy clouds.

"What troubles you, Éomer?" Aragorn asked.

"This weather. We would not see the beacons of Gondor even if the Steward ordered them to be lit. I can't help but think we should ride to their aid without waiting."

"My mind also is troubled with concern for Gondor. It is some days' journey there, even for Shadowfax, but when Gandalf gets to Minas Tirith he will, perhaps, send word, or encourage the Steward to light the beacons if the time has come. I hope Lord Faramir will be there to help persuade the Steward of the best course of action, for Denethor may not be fully able to appreciate their danger."

"Oh?" Éomer said. "What makes you think so?"

"Something Lady Elanor saw—whether a foresight or a vision of the present, she cannot tell." Aragorn clapped Éomer on the back. "Come and rest while you can, my friend. There will be time enough to worry for Gondor when we draw swords together against her enemies—and you are right in thinking that day may come soon."

"We will fight together for the freedom of the West, Aragorn," Éomer said, turning from his view of the rain. "But an afternoon by the fire will not seem ill spent, after the trouble we have faced in recent days."

As they joined the others, they heard Demnet, the bard of Rohan whose poisoned wound Lily had healed at Helm's Deep, asking Théoden King what tale or song the king would have him present for the pleasure of the company.

"Something cheerful, for this gloomy afternoon," the king said. "I don't suppose there's been time to make a song about our triumph at Helm's Deep?"

"Many songs will be sung of Helm's Deep, my liege," Demnet replied, raising his harp to his lap. "I have made a start on some verses about the coming of the Elves to our aid, and our victory in the battle, if you would care to hear them."

"Oh, yes, let's have that!" Éowyn said, looking at Legolas and Lily. "Of course, there will be some sad parts."

"I've just begun it," Demnet said. "But I will share what I have. Perhaps the lady of the Elves will have some suggestions for improvement," he added, bowing to Lily. "I understand that she is known as a skilled singer and poet among her people."

"I haven't made a song of my own in a while," Lily said. "Please Demnet, go ahead. With your permission, Théoden King."

"Yes, let's hear what you have," the king said, and Demnet nodded and began to strum his harp.

_Théoden King had called Rohan_

_To mountain fastness' safety_

_To meet dread hosts of Saruman_

_Whose evil creatures, Orc and Man,_

_Were marching to Helm's Deep._

_The ancient league of Elves and Men_

_For many ages waited,_

_And now at need, as Rohan's friend,_

_That long alliance did not end—_

_Lord Elrond did not sleep,_

_But called his warriors, fair and fell,_

_With swords and arrows gleaming,_

_From Golden Wood and Rivendell,_

_To hear Hammerhand's beckoning knell_

_And aid in Rohan's need._

_Brave Haldir led the Elves with care,_

_With helms and armor shining,_

_But all unknown another there,_

_The Lady Elanor so fair,_

_Had joined her brother's deed._

_Arrayed along the Deeping Wall_

_The Elves and Men of Rohan,_

_With Aragorn who heard the call,_

_Legolas, Gimli, brave ones all:_

_The fearsome foe came swarming._

_Among defenders fought the maid,_

_Her arrows landing truly—_

_Elanor rendered deadly aid,_

_Her comrades lived, she unafraid:_

_Fair Star-daughter of Morning!_

_But treachery of Saruman_

_At base of wall was waiting:_

_Down fell the wall of brave Rohan—_

_Sent falling, dying Elf and Man—_

_And grief came Rohan's way._

_Among the foe ran Elanor_

_With bright Celebrian shining,_

_Alas! her brother was no more,_

_He lives as part of Elven-lore._

_Had evil won the day?_

_The lady fought with broken heart_

_Yet from the war was ordered;_

_But still she played heroic part_

_By practicing the healer's art_

_All through the dangerous night._

_Man, boy, and King of Rohan fought,_

_And friends battled beside them,_

_Their valor and their cunning brought_

_Joys, sorrows, and hard lessons taught_

_And then there came the light._

_As daybreak rose upon the field,_

_The King rode out to battle._

_The men of Rohan would not yield;_

_Their foes stumbled, bled, and reeled,_

_Beneath Helm Hammerhand._

_Then Éomer rode from the East_

_And men of the Mark came fighting._

_Fled from them both Orc and Beast—_

_At last there came victorious peace_

_To great Théoden's land._

All the company applauded and Demnet bowed.

"That was well done," Legolas said.

"And a difficult rhyme scheme," Lily added. "But rather too much about me, I think. You are revenged on me for not telling you more about who I was when you asked at Helm's Deep, while I was helping with your wound. You've clearly found other sources of information."

Demnet bowed. "My lady, if you had not known that my injury was poisoned, I would not be here to sing of Rohan's glory, so I hope my song is pleasing to you. I also hope to write a song about Lady Éowyn and Lady Elanor and their healing work. And I'm not satisfied with the last two verses of this song—the coming of Éomer and the Men of the Mark, with Gandalf, from the East that morning could be a song all its own. As could the tale of the rebuilding of the Deeping Wall."

"A song about healers would not be very exciting," Éowyn said with a laugh.

"Nevertheless, it is a worthy subject," Théoden King said. "And you've done well, Demnet. Since our master bard, Rasden, fell with the Deeping Wall, you are fated to take his place, and have made a good beginning."

"Thank you, my king," Demnet said.

"Although you really should have said that Lady Elanor had to be dragged from the field of battle and ordered to take her place among the healers," Aragorn said. Demnet looked down at his harp and made no reply.

"Now, Aragorn, that would have taken up more verses—I'm surprised that was mentioned at all," Lily said.

"Still, while it's a fine song, it leaves me wanting details—I've heard much of the story, but I think I missed a lot while Pippin and I were with the Ents," Merry said. His companions told him the full tale, each taking up the narrative in turn. The rain fell heavily until mid-afternoon, then turned to sleet and, at sunset, to snow. "I'm glad I'm not traveling in this," Aragorn said, drawing at his pipe. Demnet had retired and the Éowyn had gone to see that dinner would be served in the Great Hall.

"How good it is to have a peaceful afternoon at the fireside!" Théoden King said. "I hope Gandalf and Pippin are not caught in this weather. They will be nearing the borders of Gondor."

"Perhaps further, as they ride Shadowfax, proud horse of Rohan," Legolas said. "And they are not so near the mountains, and may not receive any rain—I expect they are comfortable. But even from the border between Rohan and Gondor, the road to Minas Tirith is long."

"They've been camping out enough, both of them," Gimli said. "A day or two more in the wilderness won't hurt, with the luxuries of Minas Tirith waiting."

Aragorn snorted. "Luxuries, indeed. This peaceful afternoon should not deceive us. The forces of Mordor are gathering to defeat the garrison at Osgiliath. When it falls, they will overrun the short distance to Minas Tirith and if Gandalf and Pippin are not safely within the city—"

"All this talk of the wilderness makes remember my own soft bed," said Éomer, who was relaxing near Théoden King. "Which I believe I will take advantage of, while I can, as soon as we've had our evening meal."

"These are the words of a warrior come back from the wars: where's food? Where's drink? And where's bed?" Gimli laughed.

The next days dawned clear, and the snow melted quickly, although clouds sometimes lowered over the peaks of the mountains and those wise in the weather lore of Rohan knew that the winter snows would soon reach Edoras for the season. Aragorn became increasingly restless. Lily went searching for herbs, especially athelas, in the hills around Edoras, and tried to focus on Gandalf and Pippin and their journey to Minas Tirith, as well as to pierce with her mind the increasingly bitter shadows around Mordor to see what might be happening to Frodo and Sam. The herb-gathering did not go well; the attempts at foresight even less so. Only Merry seemed to endure the waiting, along with Théoden King, who called the Hobbit to him daily to hear tales of the Shire and hobbit-lore, until at last Merry appeared at an evening meal clad in the mail of a soldier of the Mark, and served the king at the meal.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, what have you done?" Lily asked.

"Sworn allegiance to Théoden King, and to Rohan," Merry answered, standing as tall as a Hobbit can stand in his new clothing. "We are all preparing for war, and I wish to serve the king."

"And so you do," Théoden King said, "And so you have brought new honor to Rohan and friendship to us."

Aragorn smiled, but not in mockery. "It is well done, Merry. All allegiances among the Free Peoples of the West are welcome in this time."

"I certainly did not foresee it, but I would welcome you at my side in battle," Lily said. "As Gimli knows well, the size of the warrior does not reflect his skills or his devotion."

"Or hers," Legolas said, with a slight bow toward Lily.

"Or hers," Éowyn said softly.

Éomer started to speak, but Gimli interrupted. "Experience in battle counts for something, though. Don't look for it to come to you, Merry."

"The darkness that gathers in the East would seem to foretell that battle may come to us all, and sooner rather than later," Éowyn said. "I understand that Merry wants to do his part."

"Indeed, Lady Éowyn, that is what I want!" Merry said. "Pippin has gone off to Gondor and Frodo and Sam are fighting their own great battle. I want to be part of what's happening."

Merry's chance to "be part of what's happening" seemed to arrive the next morning, for as Aragorn scanned the skies to the south, his eye fell upon the tallest peak that overlooked Edoras just as it seemed to burst into flame against the cloudy sky and the snow that had gathered below the summit. Taking the steps three at a time, he burst into the Great Hall. "The beacons are lit!" he cried. "The beacons of Gondor are lit!"

Some ran to see the beacon as it flared against the sky, while others stayed in the hall, looking to Théoden King. The system of beacons had been established years ago so that Gondor and Rohan could call each other for aid in time of desperate need by lighting a huge cauldron of flame at the highest point in or near Minas Tirith or Meduseld. The beacon would be seen by those tasked to guard a similar cauldron on the next high mountain between the allies, and it would be lit, and so another and another, until the last beacon flamed up to let the leaders of the city know that their friends called for assistance. The king raised his eyes to the tapestries along the eastern wall, where the kings of old were depicted in glory with their horses and valiant kinsman of the Mark. "What shall Rohan say to the message of Gondor?" Aragorn asked. "What is the response to their cry for help?"

"Gondor speaks, and Rohan will answer," Théoden King said, and ordered Éomer to muster the Rohirrim at Dunharrow for the trip to Gondor. "We will leave as soon as the men of Meduseld can gather their arms and mount their horses, and gather for the march to Gondor as quickly as may be." Éomer immediately left to send messengers to the outposts of Rohan, while Éowyn began organizing supplies for the fighters. Lily sighed with relief and said softly to Legolas, "I feared Théoden King would have no more heart for battle."

"And yet you have seen a young Éomer in vision as King of the Mark," Legolas said. "So Théoden King may be riding to his last battle. Have you warned him?"

"I would not presume to counsel him on the basis of what I have seen," Lily said. "And what other path can he take? Surely the warriors of Rohan would not sit idly while Gondor is conquered; there is no hope that Sauron's armies would be content with that victory and leave Rohan free."

"No, there is not any reason to believe that," Legolas said. "So, I must prepare to ride with Aragorn and Théoden King. Will you remain at Edoras?"

"Éowyn tells me that it is the custom of Rohan for the women to farewell the men at Dunharrow, before they go to war. I will be riding with you."

"And after that, Lily?"

She looked at Legolas's face, and saw his concern. "Surely you do not think I would stay behind when I could play a part on the field of battle?"

"And yet my heart misgives. I would rather you did not ride to war, beloved."

"And I would rather you did not, either, Legolas. Would my desire that you remain safe in Rohan keep you from following Aragorn?"

"You know it would not." A silence fell between the two, as Legolas could think of no words that would persuade Lily not to ride with the army of Rohan, as much as he wanted her to remain safe at Meduseld. She went quickly with the others to pack her gear and prepare her horse, and to help Éowyn with her tasks. Finally, Lily rode to the vanguard of the gathering warriors, where Théoden King was telling Merry, who had found a helm and leather jerkin and was mounted on a fine pony, that he could not ride with the Rohirrim to Gondor's aid. Merry's protests could be heard along the train, but the vanguard moved on despite them, with the Hobbit trotting behind, watched with sadness by Éowyn, who was mounted on a white steed as befitted the king's sister-daughter. Lily wanted to comfort the Hobbit, but Éomer engaged her in conversation. "So," he said. "The lady of the Elves rides openly to war this time. Or do you plan to farewell us at Dunharrow and return to Meduseld? I wish you would."

"Why do you say that, Éomer? You did not see me in battle at Helm's Deep, I know, but I assure you, I will be worth at least one of the Rohirrim in the battle for Minas Tirith."

"But Éowyn will be returning to Meduseld to lead our people while the king rides to the Pelennor Fields—or, should we fail to gain the victory, she will guide them in Rohan's last battle against the forces of evil. I had hoped you would be with her, as her friend and—should the need arise—her counselor."

"That is not my fate, Éomer. No one could keep me from riding to Gondor, with the Rohirrim if you will have me and alone if you will not."

Théoden King overheard what Lily said. "Ride with us, Lady of the Elves. I saw your battle with bow and sword at Helm's Deep—although I did not know that the shining black hair escaping beneath your helm belonged to a princess, and not a prince of the Elves. But having seen you fight bravely and well, I would not deny you this chance, nor the army of Rohan your skill. This may be the last battle for glory for the Men of Rohan, Gondor, and even the warriors of the Elves, for the Enemy is strong and we are, by all accounts, outnumbered in force and in the terror the Shadow can wield. What is our fate to be, my lady? Have you seen it? For if we ride to death, I would say I am glad to have avoided enslavement by the forces of Mordor, and if we ride in the pale hope of victory, then we may yet need your powers of healing again, as we did at Helm's Deep."

"Then let us ride forward in the light of that pale hope, Théoden King," Lily said, "For I will serve where and how I can, with bow or sword or healing, or all, in the fight for Middle Earth."

Aragorn sat tall on his horse beside the king. "If it is Théoden King you follow, Lady Elanor, I cannot forbid it if he will not. But I do not want to see Celebrian wielded again in battle by your fair hand. I do not think your father, Lord Elrond, or your grandparents, Galadriel and Celeborn, would want you to fight. Nor does Legolas, I am sure."

"Let us see what further counsel we may take when we arrive in Dunharrow," Lily said. "Perhaps my gift of foresight will allow me to assure you of my cause. For I do not want to contradict you, Aragorn, nor Legolas, and yet my path seems laid before me as clearly as though the bards had already recorded my deeds. Although the details are vague, I know that I will not meet my fate in Edoras. It waits for me elsewhere, and I will ride with the Rohirrim."

"Then let us ride to Dunharrow," Théoden King said. "Forth, Eorlingas!" he cried, and the Rohorrim took up the call, "Forth Eorlingas!" And so Théoden King began the ride to his last battle, with Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir of Gondor at his side, the greatest among them still clothed in the garb of a Ranger of the North.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The road to Dunharrow was not difficult after the exertions of previous days, and along the way more of the men of Rohan joined the troop led by Théoden King. At Dunharrow, the king and his vanguard were housed in a pavilion and tents on a high plateau, Harrowdale, guarded by a path that wound up the face of the escarpment, wide enough for only one man leading a horse. Armed Men of Rohan guarded the path's entrance and exit. The éoreds of the Rohirrim, some two thousand strong, occupied tents on the field below Harrowdale, while behind the upland rose the sheer cliffs of the Haunted Mountain, approached by the Dimholt, a dark path that the riders of Rohan never approached.

Aragorn stood at the edge of the plateau, looking at the mustered Rohirrim in their tents ordered far below, when Lily found him with a grim look on his face.

"Too few have come," she said. "Too few, you think, to ride to the relief of Gondor."

"What do you think?" Aragorn asked. "As noisy as the men and horses below us are, how I would welcome an unbearable din if made by twice or even thrice this army. But the enemy is on the borders of Rohan to the North, as well, and Edoras must be guarded—Théoden King cannot ride to Gondor's aid and return to find Rohan plundered. I fear for Minas Tirith, though, and I wonder how it goes there. Have you seen anything?"

Lily placed her hand on his shoulder. "There is a shadow over the White Tower, whether because of the greater Shadow in the East or because the Steward, Denethor, has created some strange defense, I do not know. I cannot see events but I have glimpses of feelings. Mithrandir and Pippin are safe in the citadel; both have hope but Mithrandir bears a burden of great concern, and Pippin is lonely."

"Of course Pippin misses his kinsman, but I do not doubt that he is bringing cheer to Minas Tirith," Aragorn said. "And Mithrandir, even as Gandalf the White, does not have the power to affect the tides that are rolling over us all—and who knows the condition of the city, and of the Lord Denethor, that he found when he arrived? Even so, I wish I had the benefit of Mithrandir's wisdom tonight."

"Denethor is at the far edge of sanity," Lily continued, "So I hope that somehow Mithrandir has authority over the city. It must have been Mithrandir who saw that the beacons were lit, for Denethor despairs of aid from Rohan or any other source."

"What of Faramir?" Aragorn asked. "Could not Denethor's son be leading Gondor?"

"Faramir I have seen, and he is fighting valiantly to hold the Orcs in Ithilien and at Osgiliath, but although his men love him and would follow him into Mordor itself, he doubts his own merit—Boromir was ever the favorite and that has undermined Faramir's worth in his own eyes. For long years of Men I rode from Lórien to Minas Tirith to study in the archives of Gondor, and I saw Faramir and Boromir grow to manhood." Lily sighed and took Aragorn's arm. "Ever was Faramir second in Denethor's eyes, and although Faramir and I were friends and he was patient in listening to my counsel, still I could not heal the injury to his heart inflicted by his father's shortsighted and cruel attitude. As for Boromir, he tried to shield Faramir from their father's favoritism. I had not much interest in Boromir, as he seemed overconfident and had all the encouragement he needed."

"Yet he was kind to Faramir," Aragorn said. "The two brothers were true friends. Faramir is a great leader of the men of Gondor despite his lack of faith in himself. And Boromir proved true and valiant to the last in defending Pippin and Merry against Saruman's Uruk-hai in the hills above Parth Galen."

"Yes, I know, and may he ever be at peace under the stars of the sea," Lily said. "All that you say is true, and it is Denethor, not Boromir, whose treatment of Faramir I find despicable. Denethor welcomed me to Minas Tirith and granted me the freedom of the city, but his questioning about my research in Gondor's archives was like a sword in a velvet sheath—meant to seem like harmless interest, when in fact he wanted to pierce the heart of any knowledge I had gained that might increase his power as Steward. And now that he has allowed the Dark Lord to influence him by his misuse of the palantír. I don't know him or wish to know him any more."

"I'd like to be there when you tell him so," Aragorn said with a smile.

"What I say to you I would not necessarily tell others, and especially not Denethor to his face."

Aragorn laughed a little and placed his hand over Lily's hand that rested on his arm, then grew sober. "These brothers and fathers—you and I both know the pain of Elrond's disapproval, in my case, and lack of interest, I guess one might call it, in your case—and the joy of having brothers like Haldir and Elladan and Elrohir."

Lily smiled. "Indeed, my brothers consider you their brother. My father will someday accept you as a son, when you are King of Gondor and married to Arwen, although he will always grieve her loss—her choice to remain in Middle Earth with you and have a mortal life, although longer than many lives of men. And I understand that my existence gives pain to my father, because it reminds him of the loss of my mother. When he sent me to Lórien, he knew that Celeborn would be as father and grandfather to me, and so he is—as was Haldir much like a father to me. But still there is an empty place in my heart where my love for my father Elrond and his for me could flourish, if he allowed it. I suppose that is the way with daughters and fathers. But I try not to let it cause me pain; I have been so blessed."

The Man and the Elf-maiden stood in silence for a moment, each in sympathy with the other. At last Aragorn spoke. "I suppose Rivendell and Lórien are closed to you, still?"

"Yes; I'm sorry—I know you would like tidings of Arwen, in addition to knowledge of the thoughts of Elrond and Galadriel. But they are under attack from the Dark Lord every bit as much as Minas Tirith is, and more. Elrond and Galadriel have had to shield them from all influences, malevolent or friendly, for some time now."

"And so Mordor is closed to you as well?"

Lily shifted her weight and pulled away. "I am surprised, but still I can sense something of Frodo and Sam's struggle. They are so very weary, Frodo especially, as he bears the weight of the Ring. They are poised in exhaustion between hope and despair and not knowing what might happen to them next. And I sense from Gollum treachery and delight in the possibility of treachery, mingled with lust for the One Ring and mixed emotions about Frodo, who has been kind to him. You are not the only person here who longs for Mithrandir's counsel. But brother, I sense that your own burden has grown greater since we arrived at Dunharrow, and that the looming mountain behind our camp holds a question and a danger to you. Will you not seek the counsel of Lady Elanor, however little worth it may hold for you, in Mithrandir's absence?"

Aragorn also stepped back from the brink, turning toward the Haunted Mountain that blocked the stars to the South. "You know what that path is, the one behind our camp?"

"The Dimholt leads to the Paths of the Dead—those who promised Isildur that they would fight for Gondor and then dishonorably refused his call for help. I do not fear the dead, and so that path means little to me, but the men of Rohan and their steeds are anxious when they come near it." Lily thought for a moment. "Aragorn, you aren't considering—I know you are Isildur's heir, and the Sword that was Broken has been reforged; you wear it at your side, and I remember the old lines of Maldeth the Seer—they are recorded in Gondor. But Aragorn—"

"'_Over the land there lies a long shadow . . . the hour is come for the oathbreakers . . . . Who shall call them . . . ?_'That is my burden," Aragorn began, but a noise at the high exit along the path to the king's camp caught his and Lily's attention, and both drew their swords and went quickly to the guards who defended the entrance to Harrowdale. In the light of the campfires, they could see men gathering to reinforce the guard. They heard the guard challenge those coming up the path, and when an answering call came, Aragorn sheathed his sword and ran to the guard.

"Let them pass! They are welcome here!" he called.

The guard looked askance, but Aragorn pushed past him to the first man, who led his horse onto the plateau with Aragorn's arm around his shoulders. His face, somewhat like Aragorn's, and his Ranger's clothing with a barely visible star brooch fastening his cloak, were familiar to Lily. "Halbarad of the Dúnedain! Here is good fortune," she called, sheathing her sword and running to the Man. She greeted him with courtesy, and noted that he carried a tall standard on which was furled a large, black banner, bound with black cords. "Are Elladan and Elrohir with you?"

"These are my brethren, the Dúnedain, Rangers of the North," Aragorn explained to the guards, who fell back to let the Rangers and their horses enter Harrowdale. "No greater strength could we hope for if a hundred additional men had arrived!"

"Let them come up! In the name of the king!" Éomer called as he strode into the light of the fire nearest the guard's post. "You are welcome here, Men of the North—I know you have ridden with the Rohirrim in the past, before I was Third Marshal of the Mark, for so Lord Aragorn has told me, and also Théoden King."

Lily greeted two of the Rangers as they came into the circle of firelight. "My dearest brothers! Elladan! Elrohir! What news from Rivendell? From fair Lothlórien?"

"Lily! Here you are!" Elladan said, stepping forward to embrace his sister.

"Whatever possessed you to leave Lórien, you foolish girl?" Elrohir said, embracing her in his turn. "We thought you were safe there—as safe as anyone can be in these times—until we came to Helm's Deep, some days ago."

"Then you know of Haldir, and our kindred?" Lily asked somberly.

"Yes," Elladan said. "And of you, little sister, who slew many of Saruman's evil host and healed the Deeping Wall, as well as the wounded and injured of Rohan—you've become quite a legend."

The brothers embraced Lily once again, as Gimli appeared at Legolas's side. "I'm glad to see them welcome each other so," the Dwarf said quietly to Legolas. "You Elves have impressed me as a cold people—even you and Lily, who are betrothed, seem less affectionate to my eyes than many among the Dwarves who are simply friends and nothing more."

"Do you really think us cold, Gimli?" Legolas said. "Perhaps because we do not speak of our closest-held feelings. We do not speak of the women we treasure as objects of jest, or in company, or in unflattering terms, as Men sometimes do. These loves are hard-won, often over long years of waiting and working, and we treat them as sacred, but still we treat each other with friendship and gentle humor, and even affection and passion. Our most private moments we reserve only for marriage; we do not talk about them. We are not 'cold,' my friend. The passions of the Elves are channeled through self-restraint and respect for each other—we who marry create a safe haven for each other, where no other person may come—and our feelings burn the brighter for that, although we may not display them as others do."

"Well," Gimli said, "Perhaps I should call you _reserved_, then." They turned their attention back to Elladan, who had taken a scolding tone with Aragorn.

"But could you not have prevented Lily from coming?" the tall, dark Elf-lord said, turning to his leader, "What means this, that my sister is girded with our mother's sword and part of an armed camp?"

"Patience, my lords," Éomer interrupted. "Please, let our men see to your horses, and let us grant you what rude hospitality we can offer in Dunharrow, in this 'armed camp.' We will meet in an hour in the pavilion of Théoden King—Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, the Dúnedain, and Lady Elanor—so that questions may be answered and tales told in brief, for we ride to the aid of Gondor tomorrow and must rest and prepare for the next stage of our journey. I bid you welcome again, for myself and for the Rohirrim—the Rangers of the North bring us hope all out of proportion to your numbers, even as Aragorn is worth more than one Man as a warrior and ally of Rohan."

Gimli harrumphed. "Well, Éomer has certainly come to appreciate us in better fashion than he did when we first met him and his Riders. I guess he's consulted those who know history and at least knows who Aragorn and the Rangers are."

"And he has seen that we are true to our word, and staunch in battle," Legolas said, "Which may have persuaded him more than any legends of the Men of Numenor and their descendants. I note that Aragorn feels the burden of his greater destiny as we approach the hour when he will claim the throne of Gondor. And yet I believe the road to Minas Tirith does not lie straight before us. Not for you, or for me, or for the Dúnedain, and certainly not for Aragorn."

"I've seen the maps," Gimli said, "And it looks like a pretty obvious road from here to Minas Tirith."

Legolas kept his own counsel and went to greet Lily's brothers, whom he had met in their long years of travel in the northern reaches of Middle Earth. Indeed, they had come to the Northern Kingdom of the Wood-elves in Mirkwood several times, and he had admired them as Elves and as companions to the Men of the Dúnedain. Lily was staying close to her brothers as the travelers were directed to a place where they could set up camp and obtain food and drink. The Rangers greeted Legolas as he and Gimli approached and the Elf introduced his close friend, the Dwarf. If any of the Dúnedain were amused by the strange friendship, they did not show it; perhaps because they had heard of the Dwarf's valor at Helm's Deep and the comradeship that had developed between Legolas and Gimli since their time in Lórien.

"Legolas Greenleaf!" Elrohir said. "Your part in this adventure has not gone unnoticed by the bards of Rohan. But they also say that which we can hardly believe—that you have won the heart of our sister, Lily."

Legolas touched the betrothal jewel at his neck and smiled at the brothers and then at Lily. "I am honored that Lily has agreed to marry me—we hope that times of peace return soon, so we can forget all this war and terror and see to the wedding. Do you not approve?"

"We are happy that Lily has chosen so well," Elladan said, "Although we were surprised that you two found the promise of love and companionship in each other in what seems so short a time."

"Actually, we have known each other for many years," Lily said, "Since I was a child in Lórien and Legolas visited with his parents."

"But you didn't remember that," Legolas said.

"But the Lady Galadriel did, and she was happy to see that Legolas and I met again," Lily said. "But that is a tale for another time, as is the story of how I came to be here, which you also demanded to know, brothers. I tell you now that neither Aragorn nor Legolas nor even Mithrandir could have prevented me from following Haldir to Helm's Deep. Be assured that I ride with the Rohirrim to the aid of Gondor tomorrow, and if I will not allow Legolas to persuade me otherwise, then I will not allow you to do so, even as my dear brothers."

Elladan and Elrohir forbore from pressing Lily any further about the matter at that time. The Rangers made their camp; Halbarad with his black staff and the two sons of Elrond gathered with Lily, Legolas, and Gimli in the greater privacy of Lily's tent to take food and drink and await the time for the meeting with Théoden King. After some refreshment, Elladan said. "We must speak to Aragorn."

"Then speak, if I may enter," said Aragorn, standing at the door of the tent.

"Please enter," Lily said.

"We have not been to Lórien, and so have no news for you from that land, which has withdrawn behind the power of the High Elves to resist the assaults of the Dark Lord," Elrohir said, nodding to Halbarad, who removed the banner he carried from its staff and began undoing the cords that bound it. "But we were able to go to and from Rivendell before Elrond withdrew into the Last Homely House to defend against the strength of the Shadow, and we bring greetings to you from Elrond, Aragorn, and from our sister Arwen."

"And is all well in Rivendell?" Aragorn asked.

"The strength of Elrond and the High Elves of Rivendell held firm when we left, although it has been weeks since. We have a message from Arwen: She sends her love to you, Aragorn, and says to tell you that despite the pleadings of our father and our kindred, she will not seek the Grey Havens, but awaits your word that you will be crowned King of Gondor and the Men of the West. She is true to her pledge and sends you this token of all her hopes for you." Elrohir and Elladan helped Halbarad unfold the black banner. They stood, stepped apart, and stretched their arms high to show the others the large standard, black as midnight and embroidered in white and silver with a tree, a crown, and seven stars that shone dimly but steadily in the lantern-light. Even in the hands of the tall Elves and Halbarad the Ranger, the lower part of the banner spilled onto the floor of the tent.

"Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree," Legolas whispered.

"It is your banner, Elessar, Elfstone, and the Dúnedain and true Men of the West will fight with you beneath it. For Elrond has seen that if your choices and those of others do not go ill, it will fly from the White Tower of Minas Tirith in the time to come," Elladan said. "The Lady Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of her people and your betrothed, worked this with her own hands and says to you that you are in her thoughts and dreams, always."

Aragorn had stood as the Elves unfolded the banner and stepped forward to touch the rich, strong fabric. "A gift indeed, and made by one from whose hand I would accept even the smallest token. Fold it away now, my friends and brothers; I thank you—but keep it against the time when we shall unfurl it under sunlight or moonlight as fate dictates. And so it comes to this, and the choices of him who was known and derided as Strider the Ranger, and the choices of Frodo the Ringbearer, and of so many others whose destinies cross and determine the doom of this time."

"Elrond also sends this counsel," Elrohir said, looking with some dismay at Elladan. "To you he says, 'Bid Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead.'"

Gimli drew in a sharp breath and Lily thought the lantern flickered briefly, as though a cold wind had blown through the tent.

"So that is the way I am to go—I thought as much," Aragorn said, and bowed his head. "The Lady Galadriel said the same thing in more subtle form when the Fellowship left Lórien. Did you foresee this, Lily?"

"I had not thought of it until we came here today," Lily answered. "And since I have seen the Haunted Mountain, and the Dimholt that leads to it, I have had no foresight. But when you spoke of it earlier, before the coming of the Dúnedain, a dread gripped my heart."

"And before I heard this counsel of Elrond, my mind wandered ahead onto those paths. I am to seek the Paths of the Dead, it seems," Aragorn said.

"You will not go alone," Legolas said, standing. "Our Fellowship remains intact as far as my choices lead—I will go with you to the Paths of the Dead, Aragorn."

"And so will I," said Gimli, standing beside Legolas. "I must admit that I don't know what you speak of under so foul a name—but I am with you, Aragorn."

"As are the Dúnedain, and we sons of Elrond as well," Elladan said. "We are here to go with you into this last storm, Aragorn, and we will weather it as we have so many others, together."

Aragorn looked up and around the tent. Lily thought, _So I have lost Haldir, and may lose Aragorn, and my remaining brothers, and even Legolas, my love, to this quest. And if that is what is asked of me, still I will give it—and my life in the battle for Minas Tirith, if that is my doom, and should Frodo succeed in his quest, still may we see the freedom of Middle Earth. And if Frodo should fail—well, Théoden King said it best: better to die than to be enslaved by the Dark Lord._

A low chime sounded to call those invited to the meeting in the pavilion of Théoden King. Silently they walked from Lily's tent to the meeting place and were joined along the way by the rest of the Dúnedain, whose grim faces showed their knowledge of the news Aragorn had received. They entered the pavilion and were welcomed by the king, who seemed cheered by the presence of the Dúnedain. "Little did we know, when we determined to go to Gondor's aid, that we would be joined by Men who walk the land like those out of the old legends, when it is said that Men had greater strength and could better endure battle and weariness and deprivation. Welcome, friends, to this alliance."

Lily was standing by Éomer. She whispered, "Where is Éowyn? And where is Merry?"

"They are not going to the battle," Éomer murmured back. "This meeting is to learn the news the Rangers bring us, and to begin our strategy."

But Aragorn was speaking. ". . . sorry to give you what will seem ill news, Théoden King. We will ever remember your courtesy and hospitality. But here our roads diverge, to come together again, I hope, before the gates of Minas Tirith. I am summoned to the Paths of the Dead, and the Dúnedain, as well as Elladan and Elrohir of Rivendell and Legolas and Gimli, go with me."

Silence fell like a pall on those gathered. Théoden King was stunned. Lily felt Éomer's glance, but fixed her gaze on Legolas, who stood behind Aragorn. He returned her look with a faint smile.

"Is not this the height of folly? You, on whom so many hopes rest, go to the Paths of the Dead?" Éomer asked. "You go to your own deaths, I see: the remnants of the Men of Numenor, two fine Elf-warriors, and two who have become my friends and been companions in battle. What shadow has overtaken you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn?"

Théoden King stirred. "You cannot do this, Aragorn! You cannot throw your lives away and abandon the Men of the West in this hour of greatest need!"

"This is my fate, Théoden King, and those who go with me have chosen it freely," Aragorn said. The green Elfstone that fastened his cloak, the last gift to him from the Lady of the Golden Wood, flashed in the light of the lanterns of the king's pavilion. "Still, I say to you, that we may yet meet in the battle for Gondor. I would not take this path if I believed it meant certain death."

"We ride to Gondor at first light!" Théoden King cried.

"We ride before first light," Aragorn said. "Excuse us now, Théoden King, for we must prepare and take what rest we may."

One by one, those who had chosen to go with Aragorn followed him out of the pavilion. Lily stood in the shadows until they left, then stepped forward.

"What is this?" Théoden King said. "Do you not follow Aragorn to the Paths of the Dead, Lady Elanor?"

"I promised you my bow and sword," Lily answered. "I ride at first light with the Rohirrim."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lily left the king's pavilion. The Harrowdale seemed almost deserted, as the king's vanguard were in their tents, although she could hear the faint clink of metal and the low murmur of men's voices over toward the area where the Dúnedain had set up their camp. Unable to face her brothers or her betrothed at the moment, she called lightly at the door of Éowyn's tent, which was set by the king's pavilion.

"It is I, Lily," she said. "May I come in, Éowyn?"

The lady of Rohan pulled aside the tent door and stood in the light. "What is it, Lily?"

"May I come in? I have news."

"What news? I know already that you are invited by the king to ride with my people to war, while I have been ordered to return to Meduseld, to wait for news of victory or defeat."

"Éowyn—I know that you wish to remain with the warriors, but there is nothing I can do. But have you heard of the coming of the Dúnedain? Please, let me speak to you inside."

Éowyn stepped aside and Lily entered the small but well-appointed tent, where she saw to her surprise that Merry stood, dressed in the leather jerkin and helmet he had adopted since he became esquire to Théoden King, and holding his Hobbit-sword as though he had prepared to go to battle. And indeed Éowyn may also have so prepared, for on the floor beside Merry were laid the long sword and sturdy helm of a warrior of Rohan, and beside it a plain sheath and a pile of men's clothing.

"What is this?" Lily asked. "Are you and Merry playing at war?"

"Yes—we are just talking of what we would do if we weren't going back to Edoras. And perhaps if all goes amiss, the hosts of Sauron will march between the tombs of my forefathers and deface the stones by the fountain before they swarm up the stairs to take the Golden Hall, and us in it." Éowyn picked up the sword and sheathed it, while Merry took off his helmet and laid his sword beside Éowyn's.

"Hello, Lady Elanor," he said.

"Hello, Merry," she said, wondering why he would not meet her eyes. "You are wise, Éowyn, to think ahead to a time when your king and your brother may fail in their quest, but the lack of hope in your voice saddens me. I feel that Aragorn will yet be crowned King of the Men of the West, and that you and Merry will be in Minas Tirith to see that great day. And I do not think your doom is to die in the defense of Meduseld, either of you. You must not lose your courage now, when we are faced with the winding-up scenes."

Éowyn forced a laugh. "Merry and I have courage enough, Lily."

"I didn't mean that. I just meant that sometimes it takes more courage to tend the hearth than it does to ride off to glorious battle, at least until the battle is upon you."

"I know. I waited in the caves of Helm's Deep with the women and children while the wounded arrived but could give no news of how that battle went, except that the Elves were valiant and the Men of Rohan too few."

"You were valiant at Helm's Deep, also," Lily said. "But all our valor must be at its height at this time, for the Rohirrim will ride alone to Gondor's aid in the morning. Aragorn, the Dúnedain, my brothers, Legolas, and Gimli are even now preparing to take the trail that leads to the Paths of the Dead."

"The Paths of the Dead?" Éowyn said, sinking a bit and placing her hand on Merry's shoulder. "No one has ever returned from the Paths of the Dead."

"What are you talking about?" Merry asked, looking from Lily to Eowyn with concern.

"According to the ancient tales," Lily said, "In the Haunted Mountain behind Harrowdale are the souls of many Men who swore allegiance to Isildur long ages ago. But when he called for their help, they did not come. And so they are cursed not to go to rest until they fulfill their pledge in a dark time, when a Shadow threatens from the East, and Isildur's heir calls the oathbreakers to aid him in the battle."

"That sounds like this time," Merry said. "Aragorn is Isildur's heir, and the Shadow in the East is spreading everywhere."

"But none who enter the Paths of the Dead return," Éowyn said bitterly. "This is a fool's errand, weakening the forces of Rohan to the detriment of Gondor in the memory of some old poetry. Can you not persuade Aragorn—and your own brothers, and Legolas—not to throw their lives away? Surely there is no hope if Isildur's heir never comes to Gondor."

"I would not persuade Aragorn to ignore the counsel the Lady Galadriel, or of my father Elrond," Lily said. "They both have reminded Aragorn of the words of the seer concerning this time. Perhaps none who enter the Haunted Mountain have returned, but none who have entered have been Isildur's heir, wielding the Sword Reforged. And I would not have him ride alone."

"So you ride with them?" Éowyn asked.

Lily sat down on a cushion and placed her face in her hands. "They would not allow me to follow them even if I asked. But I do not ask. That is not the way I must follow." She looked up at Éowyn and Merry, and her face was sorrowful. "In a few hours I farewell Legolas, my beloved, Aragorn, as dear as a brother, Elladan and Elrohir, my brothers, Gimli, our friend, and the Men of the West who have guarded the North from danger and been companions to Aragorn for long years. My fate is with Rohan before the gates of Minas Tirith. That much I know, although I cannot see what waits there."

Éowyn had already said her goodbyes to Aragorn and his company when Lily went to watch them ride slowly between the piers of stone that marked the entrance to the Dimholt.

"I have no token or advice for you," she said to Legolas and Aragorn as they waited to mount their horses even before the sun had begun to work its way above the eastern horizon. "The Morning Star may be hidden from you within the mountain. But I have these," she said, bringing out handfuls of arrows. "These are the arrows that we found beneath the restored wall at Helm's Deep. They belonged to our brothers who fought and died there. I believe they may hold a special virtue. Please, allow me to put them in your quivers."

"Lily!" said Legolas, turning and bending back to allow Lily to place some of the arrows among those he had. "You kept some for yourself?"

"I did. Here, Aragorn," Lily said as the Man turned to let her fill his quiver. "May they fly even more truly than the arrows of Haldir of Lórien."

"Thank you, Lily," Aragorn said. "I had not thought of these since that night—and it seems now so long ago. And even longer ago, I remember practicing archery with your brother Haldir, who taught me much. The arrows that flew from his bow and the bows of the Elves at Helm's Deep will indeed have a virtue that my ordinary weapons do not possess."

"These arrows will be our tokens, and they will give us strength. Although I have all the token I need," Legolas said, touching his fingers to the betrothal jewel at his throat.

"And so do I," Aragorn said, taking his hand from Andúril's hilt and placing it over the green Elfstone brooch that fastened his cloak. "The Lady of the Golden Wood gave me this when the Fellowship left Lórien. I could have no greater token than the good wishes of the Elves, including you, dear Lily—like a younger sister to me now, although I am the younger of the two of us, I know. But the ancient blood of Numenor quickens in my veins, and I feel the strength of days and deeds of valor long past."

"Rely on that, then," Lily said. "And on this, as well. When you have passed through the mountain, whatever awaits you on the Paths of the Dead, you will be in the South of Middle Earth, by Erech, in the valley of Morthond. I studied this in the archives of Gondor, and I know the Sun shines brightly in those lands."

"If it is not obscured by the Shadow that mars our skies," Aragorn said.

"But hear me, now, Aragorn. As I rode by Legolas on the road to Edoras, we talked of the coming winter. And briefly in vision I saw you: Elessar the heir of Elendil, Legolas Greenleaf of the Northern Realm, and Gimli of the Dwarves standing before a black mountain with the southern Sun on your upturned faces. Behind you were the shapes of Men that I could not determine. I believe I saw you as you left the Paths of the Dead to go to the Stone of Erech. This is my vision. Let it give you hope."

"Dearest Lily, dear sister. Your visions have been of great value," Aragorn said, lifting her hand to his lips. "May we meet in Minas Tirith. Take care. I know you will fight bravely, and I am certain you are not intended for death in battle. Thank you for your words."

"I will take care, as I know you will, for we all have much to which we can look for joy when the Shadow is defeated," Lily said.

"I will tell Gimli what you have said," Legolas said. "It will give him hope."

"I have so many hopes for you all— and for you, and for us, my love," Lily said.

Legolas and Lily kissed, and she watched while Aragorn led his companions along the trail. The people of Rohan did not come out to wish them a fair journey, for those who knew that they were leaving the Rohirrim were full of fear and resentment, and despair for the brave companions who had fought for them at Helm's Deep. They could not accept that Aragorn and the others would not be fighting with Rohan again in Gondor; their hearts dreaded the certain death that the companions seemed heedlessly to seek.

So Lady Elanor of Lórien watched as those she loved more than life disappeared into the darkness. Legolas, turning at the last moment, saw her raven hair, shining black in the flickering firelight as though she wore a veil of distant stars. Lily raised her hand in a final token of farewell, then turned to go to her own tent. She ate and drank a little, more because she knew she should than from any appetite, and dressed for the coming journey. As dawn drew near, she packed her belongings and went to get Snowstar from his place, so that she could join the Riders of Rohan on their long road to Minas Tirith and battle.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The sun was about to be visible in the East, even with the shadows of Mordor trying to blot it out, when the armies of Rohan gathered at Dunharrow for the ride to Gondor. At the head were Théoden King and Éomer, his sister-son. Lily was riding by the gathered warriors toward her place in the vanguard when she met Demnet, the Bard of Rohan, ready to join Marshal Elfhelm's éored in the ride to battle in Gondor. "Hail, Lady of the Elves!" he called. "We welcome your sword and bow, as well as your wisdom, as you join us in our task."

"Hail, Demnet," Lily answered, and paused. "May you sing many songs of glory and victory, and of the valiant ride of the Rohirrim to the aid of Minas Tirith, when we come there and peace has been established."

"And may your words be realized, my lady," the Bard answered. He introduced Lily to his apprentice Bard, Gannelcam, and Lily greeted the young man. "You know your name means 'harp hand' in Elvish, Gannelcam?" she said. "Perhaps you were fated to be a Bard of Rohan."

"So my father hoped," the apprentice bard said. "He was ever interested in the things of the Elves and asked a traveler from your lands to suggest a name for his new son—and told the Elf of his wishes for me. And now that I am apprenticed to Demnet, my age-mates no longer laugh at my strange, Elvish name."

Lily wished the two Bards and the Men of their éored fair journey and said that she would undoubtedly see Demnet again when they camped and the king called for the Bard to help pass the time. "Although our stops will be brief, for we must reach Minas Tirith as swiftly as the horses of Rohan can run," she said. "The Shadow is already covering the Great River—we have no time to tarry."

The men agreed and invited her to join them in a meal or sing them a song during the journey. Lily was pleased that the men of Rohan seemed to have put away the enmity that had grown between Elves and Men during recent times and to accept the Elves as friends, rather than fear them as strange and alarming magicians with only their own interests at heart. Certainly the march of the Elves to the aid of Rohan at Helm's Deep had done more than help to win the battle against Saruman. Lily looked at the faces of the tall warriors on their fine, strong horses, their faces eager to begin the ride, their blond braids resting on their broad shoulders and many with shields showing the device of Eorl the Young and so of Théoden King: a rider on a white horse, tail flowing as the horse ran against a green background. As she gazed on the men she saw a shorter Rider, helm already pressed down on his head and plain shield hiding much of his body, hunched forward in the saddle. Demnet followed Lily's gaze and leaned toward her, whispering, "That's Dernhelm. He's—riding to battle for the first time."

"Shall I go and meet him, and perhaps give some encouragement?" Lily asked. But at that moment the horn sounded that it was almost time to begin the long ride. Lily saw the flash of Dernhelm's eyes when he looked up at the sound of the horn ringing in the vale of Dunharrow, and saw the Rider's cloak fall away, although it was quickly restored to its place.

_So. _Lily thought. _The Lady Éowyn rides to battle, disguised as a young man of Rohan. And in her pity for one who would also be left behind in sorrow and frustration, she carries Merry the Hobbit in front of her on her horse. May they have a smooth road._

"Well, Demnet, you can be a friend to the young man, perhaps," Lily said, urging Snowstar forward, nodding to their leader, Elfhelm, and raising her hand in comradeship with the men of the éored. The Bard replied with a knowing look and Lily smiled and rode forward to her place. Perhaps it was that the Sun chose that moment to shine out clearly on the Men of Rohan, but many of them sat awed as the Elf-maiden rode toward the vanguard, for she seemed clad in light, a tall princess with a shining sword riding past on her white horse, and they clashed their swords against their shields and called out bravely as many horns sounded and their horses began to move out of Dunharrow and onto the road to Gondor.

Lily sat by a campfire alone as men around her prepared to halt for the night; Théoden King and Éomer had gone to review the camp after they shared a meal. The Rohirrim had been on the road for two days, and had just entered Gondor. Lily had ridden several times to the rear of the army and back to the vanguard, doing what she could to cheer the Riders, even as the sky to the East grew darker by day and the Dark Lord's cloud blotted out the stars above the mountains at night. The Riders maintained their courage. Lily kept an eye out for Dernhelm and wondered how Éowyn and Merry were faring among the Riders, and whether her identity and his presence were known to any. Lily wondered how Éowyn would conceal herself—much less a Hobbit—but no rumors of the White Lady's and Merry's presence had reached the vanguard. Even if they were discovered now, Théoden King could not spare any men to escort the Lady and her companion back to Edoras.

Lily's thoughts turned to Frodo and Sam, and to Gandalf and Pippin, but she could not see them. Nor could she see Legolas or the others riding with Aragorn on the Paths of the Dead. She had trouble concentrating and her foresight was dim. Lonely, she wished she could spend time with Éowyn and Merry. And although she tried to maintain her hope, she could not help but doubt that the Rohirrim would arrive at Minas Tirith in time to aid the city, or that she would ever see Legolas again, or that Frodo and Sam would somehow make their way to Mount Doom. She wondered if she would die in battle, like Haldir, and wander beyond the Sundering Seas, perhaps never again to see Legolas or the others she loved—so many beloved ones, now in danger. Or perhaps more of her loved ones would be lost, and she would survive and live out her time in Middle Earth and then go to the ships alone, still lonely. Staring into the fire, she began to hum and at last to sing:

_O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore_

_And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor._

_But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,_

_What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?_

"Lady Elanor?" she heard, and looked up to see Demnet standing near the fire. "I bring the compliments of Théoden King, who will return soon with Éomer. He suggested that I play a song for him, but I asked if he would not rather hear a song or story from you, reminding him that you have some fame among your people as a Bard, if that is what they call it among the Elves." Lily noticed Gammelcam standing beside Demnet, looking eager. "I hope you don't mind," the Bard continued. "The journey is a long one, but my chances to hear the storytelling and singing of the Elves may be limited. You were just singing?"

"A song that I often heard from the Lady of the Golden Wood—how I would love to hear her voice! You could come to Lórien when the war is over. You would be welcome there, I am sure, and you could listen to the Elves sing and tell our stories to your heart's content."

"I would be delighted," Demnet said, "Although I hear that those who enter the Golden Wood sometimes do not return."

"Well, not because they are forced to stay," Lily said with a laugh. "They often choose to stay. It's a difficult place to leave." Lily heard a rustle in the nearby brush and turned her head to see what was there. Her Elvish eyes made out two forms—Éowyn and Merry, hidden but listening. She put more wood on the fire to brighten the area around her and make it harder for Men to see the eavesdroppers in the dark. "Sit down, Demnet and Gammelcam," she said. "When the king and Éomer return, I will tell you a story."

Lily thought of a story that Merry had wanted to hear, but that she had not time to tell, and she asked leave of the king to tell the tale. As she spoke, others of the Men of Rohan drew near the fire to listen until a small crowd had gathered. Lily began:

"This is the story of Elenriel, sister of my mother, Celebrian of Lórien and later of Rivendell. Elenriel's name is not spoken much among the Elves, and her deeds are recorded in the archives of Gondor more fully than in the songs and stories of my people. This is why I studied in those archives for some years, riding between Lórien and Minas Tirith as my duties allowed, with leave of my grandmother, the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood, and of the Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, before the roads became dangerous with the return of the Dark Lord to Mordor.

"You know of the elanor flowers that grow now beneath the Deeping Wall—they blanket the ground before that wall, which fell in the battle of Helm's Deep and was restored by the power of Lady Elanor of Lórien. Her tears of grief for her kinsmen and for her brother, Haldir of Lórien, caused the flowers to grow and heal the scars of Saruman's evil and the sorcery that destroyed it. Never again will the wall be destroyed, as it stands in memory of the Elves whose valor gives it strength, so long as the free peoples of the West remain free. And ever will the elanor flowers bloom beneath the wall to lighten the hearts of those who watch on behalf of Rohan.

"But perhaps you have heard that in only one other place in Middle Earth do the starry elanor flowers bloom, and that is on a mound outside Caras Galadon, the high city of the Elves in fair Lothlórien. In learning the story of the Lady Elenriel, you will learn how the elanor flowers first grew in Lórien."

Lily's listeners leaned forward with interest. Her discussion of her own deeds as though she were speaking of another was in the tradition of storytellers, who kept their stories in memory and so had to make clear the identities of the characters. She could imagine Merry, leaning forward in the dark to hear how the elanor flowers of Lórien had come to grow there and to be named for the Lady Elanor.

"Elenriel was the eldest of the two daughters of Celeborn and Galadriel of Lórien, the other being Celebrian. Both of these daughters were cherished by their parents and beloved of the Elves. Celeborn, their father, taught them skill with bow and sword, for those were also dark times and an Elf-maiden who depended on the skills of her brethren to protect her from danger was deemed unprepared, if not foolish, by the Lord Celeborn. And so he wanted his daughters to be able to protect themselves and if necessary to fight alongside those they loved in defense of the fair things of Middle Earth. Elenriel went with Celeborn to Minas Tirith several times while she was not yet come to womanhood, in the time when Elves and Men had more connection to each other and the Men of Gondor were deemed higher and nobler, although they had been ruled by Stewards for many lives of Men.

"Elenriel became deeply interested in the ways and history of Men, although she spent much of her youth studying the history of the Elves and people of the North. But when she came to womanhood she left Lórien and went to live in Minas Tirith. Her parents begged her not to leave her people, but the division between Elves and Men was becoming greater, and few travelled from Lórien to Gondor and even fewer from Gondor to Lórien. As it is written in the archives of Gondor, the Lady Elenriel begged leave of the Steward, Denethor's great-grandsire, to live among the people of Minas Tirith and pledged her aid to Gondor in war and peace. The Steward welcomed Elenriel and gave her a home with a small garden near the archives and assigned a servant to tend her needs. As time passed and she did not return to Lórien, the memory of Elenriel faded in the minds of the Elves, except that her mother and father ever hoped that she might return to her people, and they taught their other daughter, Celebrian, of her sister who was no longer known among the people of Lórien. When they sent messengers to Minas Tirith—and these became fewer as time passed—they sent greetings and news to Elenriel, also, but she seldom responded. After Celebrian married Elrond of Rivendell and moved to that fair place, Celebrian taught her children, especially her oldest son, Haldir, to remember their mother's sister Elenriel and to seek news of her whenever they could. And from time to time some word of Elenriel would come to her parents in Lórien, who would send the news to Celebrian in Rivendell.

"The historians of Minas Tirith record that Elenriel spent many years, as Men reckon them, studying in the archives and becoming known as a great historian of the Men of the South. Meanwhile, the power of Sauron began to creep back to the eastern shores of the Great River, Anduin, and Gondor reinforced the Tower of Minas Ithil and the great city of Osgiliath against the increasing evil. The Steward who had granted Elenriel's request to live among Men was now an old man, but she, after the manner of Elves, appeared no older than when she had taken up residence in the city.

"Elenriel was troubled by the growing Shadow in the East and asked leave of the Steward to go with the Rangers of Ithilien to watch and guard the eastern shores between Anduin and the Mountains of Shadow. At first he was reluctant to let a Lady of the Elves ride with the Rangers, but when she proved that her skill with bow and sword had not dimmed, and that she desired no special accommodation other than to guard the borders of her adopted home as the Men of Gondor did, he instructed the leader of the Rangers to allow her to ride with them. She soon proved her mettle as a valued comrade, skilled in woodcraft and able to give wise advice about strategy and tactics, and as a good companion who knew many songs and stories of Elves and Men, of the history of Gondor, and of the other peoples of Middle Earth. Indeed the memories of her stories were recorded by the Rangers when they returned to Minas Tirith from time to time and are a treasured part of the archives of Gondor, for Elenriel knew of the histories of the North and of Elves and other peoples beyond Gondor unlike any other historian of Minas Tirith.

"Meanwhile, the Lady Celebrian of Rivendell had been captured and tortured by Orcs, a tale for another time, but a light went out of Imladris when Celebrian's joy left her and her songs failed. At last her husband Elrond took Celebrian to the Grey Havens, where she departed for Valinor, leaving her husband and children to mourn the fate that kept them still in Middle Earth. In hopes that it would strengthen her cause, for tales of Elenriel's deeds had come to Lórien and even to Rivendell, Elrond had sent Celebrian's sword to Minas Tirith and from thence it came to Elenriel. It was a mighty and beautiful sword, forged by the smiths of Rivendell for their master's bride, and it was protected by many runes and spells of protection and valor. And so the cry, 'Celebrian for Gondor' was heard in the vales of Ithilien as Elenriel wielded her sister's sword in battle against Orcs and other creatures of the growing Shadow, in defense of her adopted home.

"Now this is the doom of Elenriel. As the Shadow grew in the East, Sauron called to him the Nine who wore the Rings of Power given to Men as told in the ancient rhymes. These Kings of Men became the Nazgûl, among the most evil and powerful servants of the Dark Lord, of whose more recent deeds you know from the stories of those who guard Ithilien and Osgiliath and whose tales have travelled from Gondor to Rohan. Do not fear that I speak of these things at night on the open road, even as the Shadow in the East reaches across the Great River and we ride towards it, for my tale makes the danger no nearer or stronger, and the memory of one who kept her pledge of faith to Gondor in her darkest hour must give strength to the king of Rohan and those who ride with him in this dark hour, for he also keeps faith with Gondor even as Elenriel did.

"Always had Elenriel loved the Tower of the Moon, fair Minas Ithil, and often she urged the Rangers of Ithilien to guard it well. When the travels of the company in which she served led near that place, she asked that they visit and even dwell there for a time if duty allowed. She walked that valley and listened to the beautiful stream, the Ithilduin, that wound through it, and the chatter of birds and other creatures who lived there, for it was then a lovely outpost in a land that grew ever more dark and dangerous. The Rangers of Ithilien began to call the place Minas Elenriel in jest, but Elenriel was pleased that she should be identified with the valley she loved.

"Then the Enemy attacked. He sent the Nazgûl and their slaves to the Vale of Minas Ithil, and slowly their evil beat upon the guards of the tower. Elenriel and her comrades fought valiantly to keep the power of Gondor over the tower and valley, but the forces of Sauron could attack from Ithilien and from a high pass over the Mountains of Shadow that led to the Vale, and the tower guard were ever in danger of being outflanked or even surrounded. Orcs entered the valley and despoiled the fair things that the Men of Gondor could not defend. The more the Nazgûl gained ground in the valley, the more decay and sickly devastation they wrought, until the only fair creatures who dared enter the valley were the Rangers of Ithilien, who at last had to abandon the Tower of Minas Ithil and fall back to the mouth of the valley. The Nazgûl took possession of the tower and named it Minas Morgul. They poured filth and fear into the stream and the Men renamed it Morgulduin; no one dared drink from or touch the water that ran from the Vale. At last the Rangers held only the bridge that led over the stream from Minas Morgul on the road that led from the valley to Ithilien.

"The Rangers tried to keep control of the bridge, and thus of the approaches to and from Minas Morgul. They strengthened the garrison with all the Men they could spare from the long marches of Ithilien, including the Rangers with whom Elenriel rode. One who survived told of their brave sorties to the East of the bridge, in the hope that they could prevent a last attack on the bridge itself. In the end, on a moonless night, the Nine rode out to take the bridge, followed by Orcs whose desire was to kill and eat the flesh of Men. The Rangers stood and fought until, one by one, the dread fear that the Nazgûl can implant in the hearts and minds of Men took them, and those who did not despair and die in battle fled from the bridge, leaving the garrison unmanned. At last, the Lady Elenriel of Lórien and Minas Tirith, whose love of Minas Ithil led her comrades to call it Minas Elenriel, stood alone on the bridge, facing the Morgul-king in his black cloak. Who can tell what was in the Lady's heart, whether she could see the cold fire of the Morgul-king's crown or whether she felt her own weakness grow as his evil spells beat upon her? At last she could no longer raise her sword against him, and to the horror of her comrades the lady fell. Orcs ran onto the bridge, but a light surrounded Elenriel and they dared not touch her, so that when dawn came, a party of brave Rangers were able to fight their way onto the bridge and recover the essence of what had been the Lady, as well as her sword, before they were repulsed by Orcs and by the Nazgûls' power that now held complete sway over the valley.

"Grieving, the Rangers with whom Elenriel served sent messages to Gondor. But there was a new Steward who had not known Elenriel, and he refused her a place among the tombs of the kings of Gondor, where her comrades believed she had a right to rest as her spirit roamed beyond the Sundering Seas. And so, at great danger to themselves, they carried what they would have called Elenriel's body and the sword Celebrian past the Fangorn Forest and through the Noman Lands until at last they came to Lothlórien, where the Lady allowed them to enter, and so a part of Elenriel returned at last to her people.

"As it happened, Haldir and Elanor, the eldest and youngest of the children of Elrond of Rivendell and his wife Celebrian, had come to live in Lórien in Elanor's youth, after her mother was captured by the Orcs, for it pained Elrond to see his younger daughter when the child's mother could no longer care for the infant. The Lady Galadriel accepted Haldir and Elanor as children of Lórien, although Haldir had long since come to manhood in Rivendell. Haldir kept the memory of her mother Celebrian, and of her mother's sister Elenriel, alive in Elanor's mind throughout the years of her youth, and Elanor loved the stories of her mother and her brave aunt, who had found her destiny in the battle of Men against the Shadow that was growing in the South.

"And so on the day that the Rangers of Ithilien brought Elenriel back to Lórien, Elanor was playing in the Great Hall of Caras Galadon, and the words of the Rangers struck her heart as they described for Celeborn and Galadriel how Elenriel valiantly fought and fell on the bridge before the Morgul Vale. At that same time, not knowing the news of Elenriel that had come to Elanor already, her brother Haldir came to the Great Hall and reported that their mother, Celebrian, had long since been taken by Elrond to a ship at the Grey Havens without a last chance for Elanor or Haldir to see their mother—for Elrond feared that Celebrian had already lingered too long in Middle Earth. The burden of this last news broke the young Elanor's heart, and the Lady Galadriel came running when she felt her granddaughter's need. The Lady blessed and healed Elanor and Haldir with all the strength she could bring to the task, but the child would not be consoled. Although the Elves have no need to bury their dead and do not build monuments or tombs, for the sake of Elanor they raised a mound to the Lady Elenriel on the grass outside the gates of Caras Galadon and there buried what the Men of Gondor had brought to Lórien. Young Elanor stayed by the mound and wept, and the guards of the gate called the other Elves to see the starry yellow flowers that grew on the mound as Elanor's tears fell among the turves and healed the scars that the making had created in the place outside the gates. They named the flowers, new to Middle Earth and to the knowledge of the Elves, "elanor," and there they grow still on the mound of Elenriel beside the gates to Caras Galadon, although few among the Elves know that the mound is the tomb of a princess of the Elves, deserving honor among Elves and Men. Haldir kept the sword Celebrian, and gave it to Elanor when she came to womanhood, and together with Aragorn, Haldir taught the Lady Elanor to wield her mother's sword as well as any Elf or Man, and if one cannot find the Lady Elanor within the gates of Caras Galadon, he or she would do well to look to the mound of ever-blooming star-like flowers just outside the gate, where the Lady goes to ponder the history and destiny of those she loves."

Lily stood and drew her sword from its sheath, and it burned bright in the light of the fire. "Behold Celebrian, the sword of Celebrian and Elenriel and now of Elanor! Celebrian for Rohan!" she called. "Celebrian for Gondor!" And she stood in the light for a moment while the listeners looked on, amazed. Then she returned the sword to its sheath and sat down in her place.

"And that is the story of Elenriel, the sister of Celebrian, daughter of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, and a Ranger of Ithilien. And that is the story of how the flowers called 'elanor' came to bloom in Middle Earth."

There was a brief silence, and then Théoden King spoke. "A good story," he said, "Especially, as you said, to hear of one who went to Gondor's aid, as we are doing. Thank you, Lady Elanor. Now," he continued, "We must go to rest. We are nearing the last part of our ride, and drawing near that part of the land where patrols of Orcs and Sauron's other spies could discover our purpose. Inform the Marshals: Let all the campfires be carefully extinguished, not to be lit again. Let all lanterns be darkened and used only at need. Although we move in darkness by day and night, we must conceal ourselves insofar as it is possible. Let the Lady Elanor's story be our last, and let there be no more song or revelry, but only speech as necessary, until we are gathered for our ride across the Pelennor Fields to the aid of Minas Tirith. Afterwards, may there be many stories and songs of the coming of Rohan to Minas Tirith and the valor of the Rohirrim."

A murmur of agreement arose and someone called softly, "Hail, King of the Mark!" and the call was taken up in eager whispers throughout the camp. Éomer rose and bowed to the king. "I shall see that it is done as you have said." He left to inform the Marshals of the king's commands. The others stood and Théoden's servant darkened a lantern and while the king bid all a good night; another servant doused the fire.

"I have never heard of the Lady Elenriel," Demnet said. "I am glad to know her story, and yours."

"The story has been on my mind, because the Hobbit Merry has wanted to know about the elanor flowers he saw in Lórien, especially after he learned that the flowers now grow before the Deeping Wall," Lily said. "I wish he had been here to learn the story."

Demnet smiled and glanced toward the brush where Éowyn and Merry had been hidden, listening to Lily's tale. "He would have enjoyed it, as did we all." Demnet bowed, as did Gannelcam, and the three wished each other a peaceful night. Lily glanced toward the hiding place but saw nothing; her friends had vanished into the darkness and were no doubt making their way back to their éored. Lily went to her bedroll and settled herself for the night. She wished that she could see the stars, but the reeks of Mordor had blocked the skies. She closed her eyes and tried to see those far away—Lórien, Rivendell, Frodo and Sam, Mithrandir and Merry, Aragorn and the Dúnedain along with her brothers, Gimli, and of course, Legolas. But all was darkness. As she turned her mind to her gift of seeing and foresight, she relaxed, but then became alarmed—for she saw Théoden King, his body broken and lying on a field of war, with Éowyn and Merry close to him. Horrified she saw the King of the Nazgûl and his black carrion steed nearby, and felt herself overcome and falling. Quickly she opened her eyes and sat up, clutching her sword, and the vision cleared. _May I meet my fate bravely, _she thought. _May I do what I was called to do, unflinching. _And a song came to her mind; almost she could hear singing:

_A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!_

_We still remember, we who dwell_

_In this fair land beneath the trees_

_The starlight on the Western Seas._

Lily lay down, one hand still on the hilt of her sword. _A song of the Wood-elves, _she thought. _And I know that voice, though I have seldom heard it sing. Legolas! My love. In this dark time when we both are cut off from the stars, do I hear you singing of their light? _She closed her eyes, and was comforted, and drifted into sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

At last, after riding through dark days with little hope that they would arrive in time to make any mark on the evil that threatened all, the Riders of Rohan had reached the edge of the Pelennor Fields. They were pouring from the road to assemble in their éoreds, the king and his vanguard in the center, Éomer and his men leading at the king's flank, and Elfhelm and his hundreds on the other flank, nearest the city that stood far across the Pelennor. The wall that had been built for the defense of the fields had been broken down by the forces of Sauron; they had abandoned their posts, drawn away to the broken gates of Minas Tirith where the Morgul-king and Gandalf the White Rider strove against each other for mastery.

Thus it was that as dawn lightened the skies above the city—for the wind was shifting and the veils of Mordor were no longer so thick above the fields—Théoden King mustered his forces for battle and spoke to them of brave deeds and of Riders who would live in memory so long as even one of the free people of the West remained. Calling them to valiant deeds and victory over the Shadow, the king raised his sword in signal as his standard-bearer let furl the banner of the white horse on the green field to catch the first rays of the Sun.

And thus it was that as all in Minas Tirith wondered if the hour was come when evil creatures would enter their city, all the forces of both good and evil heard a cock crow in the Citadel and then, answering from the West, the rich reverberations of horns—horns calling the Men of Gondor to hope, horns glinting in the sunrise that revealed ranks of helms and shields and raised swords, horns summoning all those of good will to battle as two thousand Men and horses echoed their cry. Rohan had come at last!

The King of the Nazgûl wavered and disappeared from before the gates of Minas Tirith and Gandalf steeled himself to ride after that leader of their foes. But Pippin's news of the immediate need of Faramir, who was about to be burned alive with his father, the Steward Denethor, in his madness drew the Wizard away from the battle.

Lily noticed that Dernhelm, with Merry behind her, had ridden to the back of the king's vanguard. As Théoden King signaled the Rohirrim to begin their charge, the White Lady raised her sword with the others. Lily remembered her vision and determined to stay with the king; she knew that Éowyn and Merry would at some point be with him on the field. She knew the king would never again see the Great Hall of Meduseld, but did not know what destiny awaited his fair sister-daughter, or the loyal hobbit, or herself. But destiny was not to be denied. As the Rohorrim rode forward, first slowly, then gathering speed, Lily rode beside the king on his white horse, her own Snowstar keeping pace at first with his charge. But the king got ahead of her, and Lily was soon riding among the Orcs and evil Men who had swiftly come to meet the charge of Rohan. It was sword work, and bloody, and she lost sight of Théoden King for some time. Then she felt the power of a Nazgûl above her in the skies, and spoke bravery to her horse as almost all others fled the madness and the stench, the palpable evil that shadowed the field as the Morgul-king's beast landed on the Pelennor and the King of Rohan's horse, Snowmane, fell and rolled upon and then away from his master as the king prepared to challenge the Nazgûl.

_So this is how Théoden King comes to be broken, and to meet his end, _Lily thought. Her own Snowstar, although a horse of the Elves, could no longer contain his own fear, and out of pity Lily dismounted and set him free with brief words of thanks. She ran toward the king, but then saw Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, strike the head from the Morgul-king's beastly mount. Lily heard the King of the Nazgûl threaten the shieldmaiden, his voice and power overshadowing Lily's own cry of "Celebrian!" as she raised her sword and ran toward Éowyn. But where was Merry? Then she saw the Morgul-king raise his own weapon to strike down Éowyn, even as she also saw Merry slash at the back of the Nazgûl's cloak and slice the sinews at the back of his knee. _Oh, well done, Merry! _Lily thought, but even as she saw that hopeful sight, she also saw Merry fall, overcome by the Black Breath of the Nazgûl. Nevertheless, his sacrifice had been enough, for the Morgul-king's pain delayed his attack on Éowyn for brief seconds, long enough for her to thrust her sword between the evil king's cloak and crown.

For a moment, it seemed to Lily that time stopped, although there was movement in the sky—the wind had shifted and the dark clouds and reeks of Mordor were being pushed back and dissolved into tatters, flying to the East as the Sun rose higher and brighter above the Pelennor Fields. And there was movement far across the fields toward the river, a black fleet of Corsair ships landing near the city—and (could it possibly be? yes, it was true!) flying the banner of the White Tree. Aragorn, the Elfstone, and at least some of his companions had survived the Paths of the Dead and had come to the aid of Gondor. But there on the field Lily saw all things at once, as Théoden King lay dying. Snowmane, the king's horse of Rohan, as well as the fell steed of the Morgul-king, lay dead. Lily felt the surprise and the evil intent of the King of the Nazgûl, even as his dark spirit saw the small warrior whose sword had pierced him—the Lady of Rohan who had unmade him—and the shining sword of the Elf warrior who reached the Lady's side as the Morgul-king sent his last Black Breath upon the those who had dared defy him.

At that moment, Legolas looked away from his work near the ships in the valiant fight against the forces of Sauron, and saw a light away across the fields. "Elanor!" he called, as he beheld his beloved with an Elf's far-seeing eyes. "Lady Elanor of Lórien battles for Gondor! The sword Celebrian brings light to the darkness! Look, Gimli!" he called to his friend, and the Dwarf saw and was moved to poetry: "See her there—fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners! We will meet her on the field across the slain of many foes!" But even as they watched, a darkness fell and they lost the vision. And the King of the Nazgûl rose in a cloud of shadow as he dwindled away to nothing and neverness.

Éowyn crawled toward Théoden King, her shield-arm broken and her vision clouded. Lily laid her hand on the Lady's head and called her name, and felt a healing power leave her own spirit as she weakened under the influence of the Nazgûl's last evil breath. She crawled toward Merry, dragging herself over the blasted earth where the Morgul-steed had fallen. In an unguarded second, she scraped against the black mace that the evil king had let fall, now half-buried in the mud of the battlefield, and one of its spikes tore her trouser and cut into the flesh of her leg. Alarmed, she felt a thin line of the weapon's poison entering her skin. But she was needed; she cradled Merry in her arms. "Are we dead?" the Hobbit asked her.

"Not yet," Lily answered. "You must not die, Merry. Think of Lórien, and the Lady Galadriel, whatever cloud may seem to darken your eyes." She felt another measure of healing leave her as she tried to whisper words of comfort and health to the brave Hobbit. A deathly cold was spreading slowly on the surface of her injured leg. She looked eastward, hoping that help was coming from the city. And there, in the blackness that still reigned over the Mountains of Shadow, she saw a brief beacon of light that touched her heart with joy even as it lightened the darkness that clouded her eyes. Sam—Samwise Gamgee the Brave, Gardener of Renown and Ring-bearer—had raised the Phial of Galadriel to break the power of the Watchers over the tower at the top of the Pass of Shelob, Cirith Ungol, many miles away at the top of the mountains beyond which was Mordor. Although no other in Gondor saw it, the Lady Elanor saw the light of Eärendil's star as her last vision before she fell into blackness.

So they were found—after the last battle before the gates of Minas Tirith, during which none had dared approach the part of the field where the Nazgûl had chosen his prey. Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, called Éomer of Rohan to the side of his king's body, where his sister lay as one dead also. The evidence of what had happened was apparent enough to the prince, who saw the fallen Nazgûl steed and Éowyn's sword lying withered and broken, and the cloak and crown of the Morgul-king empty on the ground. "It was said no Man could destroy him," the Swan-Prince said, "And no Man did—but alas! that a fair lady should fall before such evil."

Éomer cried out in anguish at the sight of his king and uncle, dead, along with his sister, as he supposed. They called for bearers take the fallen from the field, and Pippin, in the armor of the Citadel, followed them. Pippin was the one who, searching for Merry, found him in Lily's arms; neither could be roused.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The Houses of Healing of Minas Tirith were set in a high circle of the city, with chambers for the sick, storerooms for herbs and other instruments of healing, and gardens looking eastward toward the River Anduin and what had once been the fair land of Ithilien in better days. For now, the lantern-lit chambers were crowded with the injured, and those with skill in caring for the sick worked without rest as people were carried from the battlefield and from the burning lower circles of the city, as well as other places, where the missiles of the enemy had sent stones falling from buildings and worse objects onto the unfortunate defenders of Gondor. The many different types of injuries took time and skill to treat, and the fear that the injured had brought from their battles also had to be soothed. But the Houses of Healing could deal with the influx of wounded—all except for those who had fallen under the influence of the Black Breath. Their other injuries could be treated, but the healers saw the victims' minds withdraw from the living world as they grew cold and silent, wandering further and further into some dark, shadowed land of unwaking nightmares.

Moreover, the Lord Faramir lay in a feverish nightmare of his own that nothing could alleviate. He was now the Steward of Gondor, as his father, Denethor, had set the flame to his own pyre in despair. But who would lead the people during Faramir's illness?

The forces of the Shadow had withdrawn from the field or lay dead upon it. Gandalf upon Shadowfax with the great sword Glamdring; Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, under the banner of the White Tree; the knights of Dol Amroth under the banner of the Swan; the Rohirrim led by Éomer King under the standard of the running horse of Rohan; and the brave men of Gondor, where the white standard of the Stewards still flew from the silver tower of Ecthelion, had won the day. As twilight grew and the skies above the city cleared, a blessed rain fell and cleansed the battlefield that lay before the city walls, extinguishing the fires of Mordor within and without the walls of Minas Tirith. Men set to work destroying the remnants of the battleworks of Sauron and burning the bodies of his foul soldiers; others searched for those who had fallen in defense of the city and brought their bodies to lie in places of honor within the walls. Théoden King of Rohan lay in state in the great hall of the city.

But those in the Houses of Healing were burdened with additional care when Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, Lady Elanor of Lórien, and Meriadoc the Halfling, esquire to Théoden King, were brought up and laid in chambers where their outward ills could be treated. Éomer King was filled with joy when he learned that his sister still lived. But like others, Éowyn, Lily, and Merry were under the influence of the Black Breath, and the healers could find no help for them. "Alas that there is no king in Gondor," said the woman Ioreth to Gandalf as she explained (unnecessarily) the difficulty of the situation, "For it was ever said that the hands of the king are the hands of a healer." And Gandalf the White praised Ioreth for her wisdom and left the Houses.

And so it happened that Aragorn, called Elessar, the Elfstone, entered the city where he was rightfully king, weary and spent from his journey through the Paths of the Dead, after which he had called the dreaded oathbreakers to battle as the heir of Isildur. After he led them to battle in the southern lands of Middle Earth, living men came to follow his leadership and man the Black Fleet that sailed up the River Anduin to the relief of Minas Tirith. Then, after sleepless and exhausting days and nights fulfilling this quest, Aragorn led the fight against the forces of Sauron before the gates of Minas Tirith and performed many noble exertions on the battlefield against the hideous army. Finally he had gone to his tent outside the city gates, but Gandalf had called him to the Houses of Healing, for Aragorn had ever been known to have skill in this regard, and the Wizard recognized that the hour had come for the fulfillment of the words remembered by the wise woman of Gondor. Wrapped in his tattered grey Elven-cloak, fastened with the silver star of the Rangers of the North, Aragorn came to the Houses of Healing.

There he demonstrated the depth of his power, for despite his weariness, he called for athelas to be found in the city, where its uses had been forgotten. He placed the herb in steaming water; its influence filled the air of the Houses with hope and the virtue of the healing leaves, soothing the hearts of many who had begun to despair. Then, calling upon all he had learned and all that he had developed in his character and skill, he took each one—Faramir, Éowyn, Lily, and Merry—by the hand, placed his other hand on their heads, and called each back from the despair of the Shadow, which was at the center even of Faramir's affliction. Faramir, in his strength as a son of a noble house, awakened to recognize his king and liege-lord, and fell into an untroubled sleep, soon to be able to assume his duties as Steward of the city. Lady Éowyn had faced the King of the Nazgûl, and even though she was a daughter of kings, she was grievously injured as a result of the Morgul-king's power, which he had derived from Sauron as wearer of one of the Nine Rings of Power given to the lords of Men. Nevertheless, through Aragorn's strength, she was brought back from the wraith-waste where her spirit had wandered bleak and hopeless, and saw the brotherly love in the face of her healer. Éomer King took her hand and kissed it, and wept unashamed for the renewed life of his beloved sister; she rested, although she was still troubled in her heart.

Merry of the Shire was the most receptive to Aragorn's efforts. Gandalf smiled for the first time in many days when, after Aragorn had recalled him to the living world of light, the Hobbit woke and asked if it was time for tea. "Long past time for tea," Pippin said, kissing his friend's hand, "But I am sure we can get you something to eat if you feel like eating." And so Aragorn and Gandalf left Merry in Pippin's care, and the healers of the Houses marveled at the strength of the mighty Halfling who had attacked the evil Morgul-king with a blow that destroyed Merry's sword.

Sarrose of the Houses of Healing was tending the Lady Elanor in the chamber where she had been gently laid. The young woman stood when Gandalf and Aragorn entered and addressed them with concern. "My lords," she said, "The Lady suffers greatly in her mind, and the Black Breath is upon her. But I have conferred with those who are more experienced than I, and we agree that the Lady Elanor suffers from more than the Shadow of Sauron that afflicts so many in the Houses. She grows cold, and still, and her fair skin is mottled with grey. Please, can you help her?"

"The Lord Aragorn has helped others who suffer under the influence of the Shadow," Gandalf said.

Sarrose shook her head. "I fear for her."

Aragorn took Lily's hand and immediately looked to Gandalf. "Alas! I came last to Lily thinking that her strength as a Lady of the Elves would protect her from the Black Breath; the others needed me immediately. But perhaps I should have come first to her, for there is more here than the Black Breath." Aragorn, weary though he was, placed his hand on Lily's forehead and exerted his strength for several minutes to call her back from the wraith-waste where the Black Breath sent its victims. Lily stirred, and took a deep breath, but did not wake, nor did her face take on the appearance of rest that Faramir and Éowyn had evidenced when they were recalled to life. "It is as I feared," Aragorn said. "Some other power works in her." And tears came to the stern grey eyes of the Man; he felt responsible for the hurt of the Elf-maiden who was like a dear sister to him.

They sent for Legolas, who had waited impatiently outside the Houses of Healing for word of the condition of the injured. He came to the chamber and sat beside Lily, taking her hand in both of his. "Her hand is cold," he said, turning to Sarrose. "Are there any extra blankets that would perhaps warm her?"

"This room is warm enough," Gandalf said. "I do not think a blanket is what she needs."

"Was there any wound or mark upon the Lady?" Aragorn asked. "Tell us who you are and what you have done."

"I am Sarrose of Gondor," the healer replied. "I have washed the Lady and clothed her in clean linen, and placed her belongings there in the corner," she said, gesturing to the wall against which the sword Celebrian stood sheathed, with a bundle of clothes and Lily's bow, quiver, and pack on the floor beside it. "She has no other hurt that I could discern, except that there is a line of black on her leg that will not wash away—I think it is a scratch. When I felt and smelled the scent of the healing herb you have caused to be dispersed through the Houses, my lord, I took a cloth and soaked it in the warm water where the herb—you call it athelas?—was steaming, and tried to clean the black line off her leg with the cloth. When I took the cloth away, it was black, but still her leg had the black line on it, and still her leg was grey around the scratch, if that's what it is. I have placed two clean cloths newly soaked in athelas water against the wound since that first attempt, but I cannot make it clean." Sarrose showed the others the cloths soaked in water and stained black.

"You have done well, Sarrose," Aragorn said. "I fear the Lady has been poisoned. Do not touch the black substance on the cloth."

"I have not, Lord Aragorn, for I feared that some poison or other evil of Mordor was at work in the Lady, in addition to the Black Breath." Sarrose folded back the sheet where it covered Lily's leg and removed the cloth she had placed on the wound to show Aragorn the scratch. Aragorn knelt and touched the skin around the wound and smelled the black substance that stained the cloth that had been on Lily's leg.

"This is a poison used by the Nazgûl," Aragorn said, a look of despair crossing his face. "It smells of the same sickly airs as the Vale of Minas Morgul. It is beyond the healing power of athelas, and beyond my strength alone."

"Is there nothing we can do?" Legolas said. "Can we not send for Lord Elrond?"

"He is greater in power than I am, and the Houses of Healing have never seen his like," Aragorn said. "Surely he would have some idea of how to help."

"He would not come in time, if this is indeed the poison you think it is," Gandalf said.

"Could we—could we take her to the ships, and to Valinor, before the poison spreads?" Legolas asked. "I do not wish to see her lost to this world, but rather than have her poisoned beyond healing, I would send her ahead, hoping to meet my dear Lily again when my time is come to leave Middle Earth."

"They would not allow her on board the ship with this poison inside her," Gandalf said. "We must find some medicine or other power."

Aragorn looked at his hands and shook his head. "The hands of a healer. But these hands cannot heal my dear sister."

"Maybe after you have had a chance to rest," Legolas said. "We must try something."

"Perhaps in the lore of the healers of Minas Tirith there is some clue to healing the Lady Elanor," Gandalf said. "I will go to the archives. This was not my study during the times when I was seeking information in the records. Indeed, the person most likely to know what the archives contain about healing is Lily."

Sarrose put a clean poultice of athelas on Lily's wound. "I have not studied in the archives, but I have studied the records here in the Houses of Healing. I will search my mind, and go to the Master of the Houses and ask if he knows anything."

"Legolas and I will watch over Lily and I will keep changing the poultice on her leg," Aragorn said. "Perhaps that will delay the spread of the poison."

Sarrose went to the Master of the Houses, who said he would search his memory and his records, and consult with other healers. She walked with Gandalf as far as her home, which was near the archives, to quickly eat and drink and tell her mother of the Lady Elanor's plight. Then she returned to the Houses of Healing and took Aragorn's place at Lily's side, while he went to others afflicted by the Black Breath and spent the exhausting night calling them back from the dead lands where they wandered hopelessly in their minds. The families of the injured and the healers of the Houses marveled that this Ranger of the North would spend his strength to help so many, and at his success in defeating the Shadow that lay on the injured. Peace replaced despair as the night wore on and the victims of the Black Breath grew stronger and rested in natural sleep. Only the Lady Elanor seemed beyond Aragorn's skill, although he went to her many times and called to her. The eldest healers begged him to rest, but he would not, although grey weariness hung like a cloak around him and the lines of his weathered face grew grim. All who saw him recognized his kingly demeanor, marked by service and sacrifice as the prophecies had told. Soon the rumor swept the city, even in the watches of the night, that the healing hands of the King of the Men of the West, the Elfstone, were at work in the city. Legolas stroked Lily's forehead and called her name and sang to her and told her of his love. Gandalf obtained the key to the archives and studied there through the long hours. Gimli, finally allowed to enter the chamber where Lady Elanor lay, sat against the wall and pondered his friends' love as he listened to Legolas speaking to Lily, trying with all his heart to wake her from her shadowed unconsciousness.

With the dawn, the sun rose on the battered walls of the city. The gate had been hastily repaired as much as possible and fresh workers arrived from their rest to replace those who had labored through the night to clean and renew Minas Tirith and the Pelennor Fields as much as they could. Messengers had been sent to Rohan and to all the borders of Gondor to discover what had happened there and tell the news of the victorious battle that had driven the Shadow back to Mordor, at least for a time. Soldiers who had spent the day in battle went to their quarters and got what rest they could, almost too tired to sleep or eat, their memories of the horrors of the battle causing them unrest. But many of the injured were sent that morning from the Houses of Healing to recover in their own homes, their injuries improved and their minds at peace, insofar as the dangerous times allowed. But their unrest was due to the disturbance of the times; the irrational fears and nightmares of the Black Breath were a dim memory as they remembered the kind face of the king who had called them back to the waking world.

Faramir woke to the first hopeful light of day in many a morning, and although he was weak and remained in the care of the Houses, he was able to approve the actions of Gandalf and other leaders in assigning those who were able to do all that was possible to rebuild the defenses of the city and cleanse it of the remnants of the battle. After taking some nourishment, Faramir organized the swan-knights of Dol Amroth to go from house to house within the city and ask after the people; they reported back to Prince Imrahil, who organized relief of the needy and suffering. After inquiring about the arrangements for honoring the valiant ones who had died in defense of the city, and learning that they were being cared for, Faramir returned to his bed at the request of the Master of the Houses, and slept for many hours. The Lady Éowyn woke, somewhat recovered but restless, and those assigned to watch over her wondered if she would recover fully from her injuries, and ordered her to stay in bed. Merry ate a generous breakfast, although it was nothing compared to what he would have enjoyed on a morning in the Shire, and walked a little in the city with Pippin before returning to rest.

But the dawn did not bring relief to Lily. The grey color around the wound on her leg seemed to spread, and near the wound her skin turned a sickly yellow and began to fester. Sarrose faithfully bathed the Morgul-scratch in athelas water, hoping that the powerful ones would find a cure for the beautiful Elf-maiden. Legolas dozed but woke after an hour with a cry of despair, and Aragorn, who had gone to his tent for a brief time to rest, returned to Lily's chamber and soberly examined her wound.

Gandalf returned to the Houses of Healing from the archives, looking grim and tired. "I find nothing of this poison mentioned in the records of the healers," he said. The Master of the Houses of Healing followed Gandalf into the room and reported that he had made no progress, either. At that moment, there was a commotion outside the room and a tall woman with the features and blonde hair of a woman of Rohan pushed into the room, holding a clean, lumpy cloth sack and what looked like an old book.

"Sarrose, tell them to let me in," the woman said, and Sarrose stood and gestured to the guards to let the woman enter.

"Mother," she said, "What are you doing? This lady is sick unto death."

"I'm sorry to disturb anyone," Sarrose's mother said, "But Sarrose told me about the Elf-lady's illness and I thought perhaps this could help. It took me all night to find it."

"Come in, madam …?" Gandalf said.

"Rohesa," Sarrose's mother said. "We live in the house where this lady lived when she used to come to Gondor—the House of Elenriel, we call it, because a lady of the Elves named Elenriel once lived there, long ago. My husband's grandmother was the Lady Elenriel's servant, and when the Lady died in battle on the bridge over the Morgulduin, the river that flows from the Morgul Vale, the Steward gave the house to our family and we have lived there since, and left Elenriel's room as this lady, Elanor, left it—she lived there too, when she used to come to Minas Tirith from the Golden Wood. 'The House of Elenriel' is still carved above the door. We're very proud to live where the Lady of Lórien and the Ranger of Ithilien who fought for Gondor in the old Dark Times once lived."

"And you have found something that may help this lady?" Aragorn asked.

"I hope so," Rohesa said. "It's the Lady Elenriel's book. We knew she wrote one; my husband's grandmother used to tell how the Lady would return from a journey with the Rangers and would barely stop for food or drink until she had written in the book—writing down all she had learned and done." Rohesa held out the yellowed, dry volume. "She was something of a healer, the stories say. This is in Elvish, I think—I can't read it. But maybe this Elf can find something in it to help the Lady." She carefully placed the book in Legolas's hands and stepped back. "I hope I haven't done wrong, disturbing the Lady Elenriel's book and coming here like this."

"No, Rohesa, you have done right," Gandalf said. "We are almost out of places to look for help for the Lady Elanor."

Legolas began carefully turning the pages of the old book, skimming the flowing, faded script for any clue to a treatment for Lily.

"You're the Wizard, Gandalf the Grey," Rohesa said. "I've seen you in the city on your wonderful white horse. I'm from Rohan, you know, and I know a horse of the Mearas when I see one."

"Indeed, I am Gandalf, my lady," the Wizard replied, "And you are a good judge of horses. His name is Shadowfax. Allow me to introduce you to Aragorn, a Ranger of the North."

"Elfstone, they're calling you," Rohesa said to Aragorn, "And saying that you are our long-looked-for king," She did him a courtesy. "At your service, my lord. They say 'The hands of a king are the hands of a healer.'"

"Alas that I can seem to do nothing for the Lady Elanor. But Rohesa, why did you remain in the city?" Aragorn asked. "Most of the women left for safety—if any was to be found."

"My husband, Dalgorad, stayed to fight for the city, and Sarrose, here, insisted that she would be needed in the Houses of Healing. So I said I'd help cook for the defenders of the city—I wasn't going to run away and hide and leave my family to do the work."

"You are brave, lady of Rohan and Gondor," Aragorn said, with a slight bow.

"Oh, don't go bowing to me, my lord. I'm just a baker woman. There have been some terrible moments, to be sure," Rohesa said, and put her arm around Sarrose. "Those flying Black Riders, and the fires, and the gates being broken, and I hear Lord Denethor has died and also Théoden King, who I used to admire when he would go among the people in Edoras, when I was a little girl—well, it was almost too much, and I just put my head down and kept working. Which reminds me, I brought some fresh currant buns that I was making yesterday when Sarrose came home—will you have some? I worry they don't feed people as well as they should here, and you all look like you could use something to eat."

With that, Rohesa reached into the lumpy bag and brought out the fragrant, golden rolls and handed them around, except to Legolas, who politely waved her away.

"This is Legolas, a prince of the Elves, who is betrothed to Lady Elanor," Gandalf said. Legolas looked up briefly and nodded before returning to the book. "And this is Gimli, a great warrior of the Dwarves." Gimli rose and bowed to Rohesa before taking a large bite of his currant bun.

"Thank you, Lord Gimli, and I hope you like it. It's no wonder your Elf friend doesn't have much appetite, if he's the lady's sweetheart, and her so sick and all. I'll save you one, sir." Rohesa handed a bun to Sarrose and bit into another herself after checking to see that some were left in the bag. "But there've been some great things, too, along with the awful things—you driving the enemy away from the gates, Lord Gandalf, and the Sun coming back, and that fleet of black ships—we thought that was the end of it, an invasion of Corsairs, and then all of you and the others came onto the field with your bows and arrows and swords and started fighting those evil creatures; how I wish I were a minstrel to sing a song of it! And the lovely rain yesterday evening, and all those monsters running away—if I'd had a horse, I'd have been tempted to chase after them. But my job is to see that those who do chase after them have a hot meal waiting when they come back, so I kept to it."

"One who can continue in her duty even when others are seeking deeds of glory is a valuable soldier in any realm," Aragorn said. "I have many times been grateful for those who arranged for comfort when I've returned from the field, cold and hungry and weary."

"Perhaps you should come and bake for the Houses of Healing," the Master of the House said. "You seem to be quite good at it." He looked at her bag and she reached in a got another bun for him.

"Thank you, sir," Rohesa said. "I appreciate all that Sarrose is learning here." She looked with pride at her daughter, who was changing the poultice on Lily's leg yet again. "Poor beautiful Elf-maiden. And they say she fought as bravely in the battle as any of them, and more than some. When Sarrose came and told me of the Lady's illness, I thought, 'Well, this may be the reason we've kept Elenriel's House as she left it, because I know I've heard she had a book somewhere, and she may have written her recipes for healing herbs and such, along with writing about the battles and poetry and songs and all.' So I spent the night looking for the book, and just found it about an hour ago, and came here as soon as I could."

"This may be something," Legolas said. "Listen:"

_The hosts of the Dark Lord are trying to conquer the Morgul Vale, and they have a poison that spoils and turns carrion-like anything it touches, even the flowers and trees. They are making the very mountains sick; they have cursed the waters of the Ithilduin. Garlord drank from the stream before we knew of its changed quality and fell immediately unconscious; in just minutes his body had turned grey and then yellow and started to rot like one dead for hours, yet still he lived. Our commander, Lord Amlofad, consulted the men and after some solemn moments, delivered Garlord from his misery with his own sword. I thought it a kindness and a blessing to the poor man, for I believe he was experiencing horrors in his mind, and the illness came too suddenly and took him over—they asked me if there was any hope for healing, and I said no. He would have lingered in that terrible state indefinitely, I have no doubt. So if any are to be held responsible for his death, the entire company, and I with them, will take the punishment._

"No!" Gimli cried. "This cannot be the Lady Elanor's fate!"

"There's more," Legolas said. "There is hope, I think."

_Then Lord Amlofad brought Vondorad to me. The man had scraped his arm on a branch earlier today, and the branch was of a tree that had been spoiled and poisoned by the Morgul spells. He thought nothing of it, but when he how it went with Garlord, and that his own wound had turned black, he feared that his fate would be the same. I tried to assure him that I would do all I could, and after some hours had passed I had hope, for although the area around the wound was grey and the edges of the wound had turned yellowish and begun to swell, I thought that the poison was moving slowly—after all, Garlord had drunk the evil water of Ithilduin—which we now call Morgulduin—but Vondorad had only a scratch, although an evil scratch indeed. I believed I might draw the poison from the wound. Vondorad, even in his great fear, thanked me, and then sank into a sleep from which we could not wake him._

_I bathed the wound in athelas water, and some black poison came away, and I kept on trying to clean the wound, and blackness came away each time, but the grey pallor spread and the yellow ruination of the skin grew worse. At last I sat and thought, reaching back in my mind to the times when I learned some skill as a healer in Lórien, and I remembered the herb that my sister Celebrian had tried in several hopeless cases, where it seemed no power or medicine would help. I ran for my pack and found perhaps two handfuls of the old leaves, wrapped and tucked away where I had forgotten them—or where perhaps Celebrian had stored them years ago, before I left for Gondor. I hoped that they had not lost their virtue and soaked them in water, then bathed Vondorad's wound. The air in the camp was refreshed even beyond the power of athelas, and some of the sorrow we felt over Garlord's death was lifted, and some of our hope restored. I applied the herb to Vondorad's wound and after several applications, the yellow spoilage abated. I continued to treat the injury, even as a party of Orcs attacked the camp; members of our company surrounded Vondorad and me as I continued to work, and the Orcs were driven back. After some time, the grey skin around the wound returned to its normal color and the blackness in the injury dimmed and at last was washed away. I continued to bathe the wound and also Vondorad's forehead, and called his name and he awoke. He has a scar where the branch scraped him, and he is slow to regain the use of the arm, but I believe he will be healed completely. And so I again have a reason to thank my dear sister Celebrian for her skill and the trials she made in healing those with apparently hopeless illness and injury. If only someone could heal her, and restore her to Elrond and her children as she was. I should go to Rivendell and see her before much more time passes here in the world of Men._

Legolas looked up. "Celebrian's herb!" he said. "That must have been the medicine she used!"

Aragorn went to the wall of the chamber and took up Lily's pack. "She said it grows only in Lórien and Rivendell, but she may still have had some with her." He pulled out clothes and other items and the separate bag that contained Lily's medical kit. "There are bags of the type she used to carry herbs," he said, opening each one. "No, this one is common. And this one is empty, except for a few leaves of athelas," he said. "It grows only where the men of Numenor camped of old, although such places exist near Minas Tirith—I have sent Elladan and Elrohir to seek them out, and gather as much athelas as they can without diminishing the health of the plants, to be always available to us." And those who watched him say this knew that by "us" he meant his people, the people of Gondor and the free people of the West.

Aragorn pulled a last bag from the kit. "It's empty," he said. "A few leaves of Celebrian's herb remain. She used it all to treat and heal others, and in her time of greatest need, none is left." He leaned against the wall and bowed his head. Legolas lowered his head into his hands; Gandalf leaned on his staff like the old man he had pretended to be in Fangorn Forest, so many weeks ago.

Sarrose approached him and did him a courtesy. "My lord, may I see the leaves?" she asked, and gently took the bag from his hand and picked up some leaves from a seam. She carefully placed the leaves and crumbs of leaves in her palm and looked at them closely, touching and smelling them. "The stories say that Elenriel made one last visit to her home—whether that was Lórien or Rivendell, they do not say. But if I am not mistaken, she may have brought back with her some plants of what you call Celebrian's herb."

Rohesa's eyes opened wide. "The bush by the door! The one with the blue flowers all through the spring and summer! Many's the time I've broken off a sprig and crushed it in my hand, just to give my mind and spirits a lift when times are difficult. Indeed, I have done so in the last few days, when all the air seemed black and the city's fate hopeless. Although the autumn is upon us, the leaves stay fragrant all year."

Aragorn straightened and a new light was in his eyes. "Sarrose of the Houses of Healing," he said, placing his hand on her arm, "As you have served the Lady Elanor through this long night, serve her now, if this be true. Run to your home and gather as much of this herb as you can!"

"Yes, my lord!" the young woman said, and rushed from the room.

"I'll see she is not detained," Gimli said, and ran after her.

And so at noon on day after the Battle of the Pelennor Field, Sarrose of Gondor and Gimli the Dwarf came to the Houses of Healing with bowls full of branches of a fragrant herb. All they passed breathed in the clean scent of the plant and marveled that their strength was renewed to heal within themselves or to heal others, even after hours of unabated labor. And so it was, after Aragorn had applied many poultices of Celebrian's herb, mingled with his own tears, to Lily's wound, that as the Sun went to rest behind the mountains to the west of Minas Tirith, Lily opened her eyes and saw the face of her beloved Legolas, and of her brother Aragorn. She took the Ranger's hand and raised it to her lips, then breathed deeply the scent that lingered there. "Celebrian's herb," she whispered weakly. "I thought I walked in the stench of the Morgul Vale, ever nearer some fetid, suffering darkness, but slowly the light grew and I walked in the garden of the House of Elenriel of Gondor and Lórien, and now I am here. Thank you. Thank you. I feel I have been rescued—like I've been born to a new life." And she drifted into a natural and blessed sleep. Legolas stretched out on the floor beside her bed and after hours of worry, let the restful dreams of the Elves bring peace to his mind. Gandalf walked slowly through the city, noting the warmth of the candlelit homes and the quiet laughter and snatches of song he heard there, although too many had tokens of mourning on their doors. Even after so much death and suffering, hope had once again taken root in the city. Like a shimmer of starlight the White Wizard passed each home, seeking the Prince of Dol Amroth and the others who had brought relief to the people.

Aragorn, followed silently by Elladan and Elrohir, all cloaked in Elvish grey, walked wearily down to his tent outside the city gates, and the King of the West slept peacefully for a brief time during the lull between the victory at Minas Tirith and all that remained to be done to defeat Mordor.

And Sarrose, after tidying the Lady Elanor's chamber and receiving permission from the Master of the Houses of Healing, was leaving that place to rest at home when she met Éomer King returning from a brief meal to spend the early evening with his sister, Éowyn, who was still restless and confined to her bed. Sarrose knew who he was, and moved out of his way, offering him a deep courtesy.

"Are you a woman of Rohan?" he asked. "Excuse me, my lady, but I have missed the fair faces of the women of my people and it seems a boon to see such a flower growing in Minas Tirith. As great a city as it is, I long to see the Golden Hall of Meduseld in a peaceful time to come."

Sarrose did not look up at him. "Your words are courteous, Éomer King of Rohan. I am no lady of Rohan, but only a lesser healer of Gondor, my lord. My mother, Rohesa, came to Gondor from Rohan many years ago; my late father was a Man of Gondor and was slain before the gates of the city."

Éomer bent to see her face and she raised her eyes to his. "You are no 'lesser' healer—you are the lady who helped to save the Lady Elanor—tales of your tireless devotion to the Elf-maiden have already been told to me and others whose loved ones are in the Houses of Healing. Your name is Sarrose, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And you go unattended to your home? Allow me to see you safely there."

"You should go to your sister, my lord. I have heard of your devotion as well. The streets of Minas Tirith are safer now than when I have walked them alone in many recent days, although I thank you for your offer." She curtseyed slightly again and went down the steps, but Éomer fell into step beside her. One of his attendants followed with a torch in the twilight. "You are the one who found the herb that healed Lady Elanor?"

"That was my mother's doing, my lord. My home is near the archives, sir; it is not far. You really need not come."

"I am sorry for the loss of your father, Sarrose."

"As am I for the loss of your beloved Theoden King, Éomer King."

"So may great and beloved ones have been lost," Éomer said. "But so many have found healing in the Houses where you labor. I have heard that you live in the House of Elenriel, where Lady Elanor lived when she visited Gondor in earlier times."

"Yes, my lord."

"Lady Elanor told us the tale of Lady Elenriel while we traveled from Minas Tirith. What a great lady she was."

"Indeed she was. And a great warrior." They came to the gate of the house. "You are very kind, my lord king, to see me safely home."

Éomer saw something in Sarrose's steady grey eyes that made him want to stay with her, as much as he wanted to see Éowyn, and as weary as he knew he was and that Sarrose must be. "May I see Elenriel's garden, and the bush that bears this miraculous herb?"

Sarrose leaned against the gate. "Would you be pleased to come back tomorrow, and see Celebrian's herb, my lord?"

"Forgive me, my lady Sarrose; I have imposed upon you and I know you are tired," Éomer said hastily.

"We are all weary, my lord, and a good night's rest will renew us."

"May I come in the morning and walk you to your work in the Houses of Healing?" Éomer asked. "Perhaps I could see the garden briefly then."

"Certainly, my lord."

"I will see you by morning," the young king said, and bowed, and turned to leave.

"Éomer King," Sarrose said, reaching into her pocket and pulling our sprig of Celebrian's herb. "Here is a little of the herb. It will refresh you."

"A fine gift, indeed, lady of Gondor. I thank you." He held the sprig to his face and breathed deeply. "Already I feel renewed. This will see me through my night's tasks." He smiled and, with his attendant, returned down the way to the Houses of Healing. Sarrose watched him for a few moments, and then went inside.

"There you are," Rohesa said. "I have your supper waiting, and then you must get some sleep, my love."

"Very well, Mother," Sarrose said. "But I should tell you, we will have a guest early in the morning. He wants to see Elenriel's garden, and walk with me to the Houses of Healing."

"He? Who is this man? Where did you meet him?"

"He is Éomer King of Rohan, Mother."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Lily stood in the garden of the Houses of Healing, looking to the East. There all hopes lay: with Aragorn and Mithrandír, Pippin and Merry, Legolas and Gimli, and the small army of the men of the West who went to draw the attention of the Dark Lord from within the walls of Mordor to those who marched to its gates. And with Frodo and Sam, who were somewhere in the Black Land, trying to reach Mount Doom and destroy the One Ring. At least she hoped they were alive and still able to continue their quest—Lily had not been able to see them in her mind since she had glimpsed the starlight piercing the black mists over the Pelennor Field as Sam raised the Lady Galadriel's phial before he and Frodo disappeared over the mountains into Mordor, just before her own injuries overcame her. But now she was almost healed, thanks to the ministrations of Sarrose and of Aragorn. She sighed and turned away from the wall. It had been so difficult to see Legolas, her beloved, ride off with the others on this last, perhaps doomed attempt to defeat Sauron. But she had been in no condition to leave with them, and her heart told her that her place was in Minas Tirith. Somehow she had no desire to go to battle, although she would have joined the company if anyone had asked, and if she had been able—but it was not to be. And so she waited with the others. She felt that she should be able to foresee her part in the last days of the battle against Sauron, but all she felt was love for her friends, mingled with hope, and a sense that there was something more that she would be called upon to do.

"My lady, we are ready to move you to the House of Elenriel," Sarrose said, walking into the garden.

"You and your mother show great kindness in allowing me to stay with you," Lily said.

Sarrose smiled. "It is really your house, as the heir of Elenriel, my lady."

"Nonsense," Lily said. "After all this time, the house belongs to you and your family. I am happy to be your guest and to stay there again for a short time."

Lord Faramir, the steward of Gondor, who had not yet been released from the Houses of Healing, came around a corner. "Ah, there you are, Lady Elanor. Good morning, Sarrose."

"Good morning, my lord Faramir," Sarrose said, left them with a slight bow.

"So, Lady Elanor, I understand that you are leaving us."

"I can't stay in the Houses of Healing now that I am better, my lord. And I wanted to be near the archives. Something tells me I must look there again, although I know not what I seek. Are you not yet healed? I understand that you are doing the work of the Steward these days, despite your injuries."

"And because of that, the Master of the Houses wants to keep an eye on me. I don't mind," Faramir said. "The company here is very pleasant." He looked toward a distant wall of the garden, where Lady Éowyn stood looking to the East, much as Lily had, but with a disturbance of spirit that Lily could sense, even at a distance.

"She's a great lady, with a great burden on her heart," Lily said.

"She does not seem to have healed as well as you have," Faramir said.

"She has suffered a great deal," Lily said. "I have tried to be a good friend to her, but she needs more than I can give. Even Celebrian's herb does not touch her deepest troubles."

"I hope that she and I will become friends, as well."

"I hope that for you both," Lily said, stifling a smile. "I should be on my way."

Faramir did not seem distressed that Lily was leaving; his eyes were still on Éowyn. "I hope you find what you seek in the archives; I remember well the time we spent there together. Come and tell me what you find."

"I will be back," Lily said. "Until then, Lord Faramir."

He looked again at Lily. "Until then, my lady."

Lily went into the Houses, where Sarrose waited. "I will carry your pack, my lady. Do you wish to wear your sword?"

"It doesn't seem to go well with the dress of a lady of Gondor," Lily said, glancing at the flowing blue gown that she had been given to wear. "And my old traveling clothes were just rags, you said?"

"Except your cloak, my lady. It's as good as new, even though Prince Legolas told me it had traveled with you all the way from the Golden Wood, after all you've been through. And I have already had your pack delivered to our home. After replenishing your healing kit."

"Thank you, Sarrose—you are indeed thoughtful. I'll just carry the sword." After saying goodbye to her fellow patients and thanking the healers again, Lily walked home with Sarrose and was soon settled in her old room at the House of Elenriel. She went to the garden with Sarrose and Rohesa to see the bush of Celebrian's herb, now harvested of a great many branches.

"I sit by this bush every evening," Rohesa said, "And I can't think why I didn't notice it for what it was."

"It looks rather different here in the garden than it does in the wild, where it never grows so large," Lily said. "How fortunate that it retains its virtue. I wonder if we could divide it, and cultivate shoots at the Houses of Healing? They should have it in their garden."

"We should plant it all over the countryside," Rohesa said.

"Somehow I don't think it will grow just anywhere, Mother," Sarrose said. "Although Éomer King was hoping to take some back to Rohan, after—after peace returns."

Lily had heard of Éomer's visit to the House of Elenriel. He had had little time in Gondor before marching toward Mordor with the armies of the West, but he had divided it between Éowyn and Sarrose as much as possible, to the point where the Master of the Houses of Healing asked him if he wanted to train as a healer. The young king had blushed and stammered something about learning what he could, and Lily, who had witnessed the scene from her place at Éowyn's bedside, had wondered. "Perhaps he will invite you to Rohan to see that it gets a proper start," she said to Sarrose.

"He did mention that I should see the land of my mother's family," Sarrose said calmly. "I would like to see the Golden Hall of Meduseld."

With that, Rohesa launched into a description of the wonders of Rohan, as she remembered them from before her marriage, and that took the women through lunch, after which Lily got a start in the archives. Sarrose was still charged by the Houses of Healing to watch over Lily's recovery, and insisted that Lily stay in the archives only until time for the evening meal. After a few hours of looking through old manuscripts and dusty files of papers, Lily returned to the House of Elenriel somewhat discouraged. "Any news from the East?" she asked Rohesa after washing up and offering to stir the soup while her hostess arranged bread and cheese on a platter.

"Now, it's too soon, I'm sure, my lady," Rohesa said. "It will take several days for them to get to the Black Land, may they be safe from harm. But if there's any news, Sarrose will know it when she gets home." But the healer had heard nothing, either. Lily could feel the tension beginning to increase in the city as renewed concern for the men who faced known and unknown dangers rode farther from home.

Lily retired to her room, happy to follow Sarrose's orders that she rest before trying the archives again on the morrow. She sat on the bed, thinking of her friends, and especially of Legolas, when her eyes fell on her sword, leaning in its sheath in a corner of the room. She wondered if it had come to harm after doing much work in battle, but as she drew it forth its shine testified that it was not scratched or nicked; she knew someone had carefully cleaned it after the battle while she lay unconscious. She held up the blade in the firelight, turning it to see the runes and words of power forged into it by an Elvish smith long ago. "The Sword of Celebrian," someone had carved down one side of the blade. Of course, Lily had read the words many times, and had studied the flowers and other decorations on the blade. Also the small, fine words, written in Elvish, that twined among the vines on the shiny surface:

_At the death of the mother, I go to the maiden_

_At the death of the maiden, I stand at the bridge_

_At the maiden's sacrifice, I restore the valley_

Lily had read the words many times. Long ago, she and Haldir had decided that the first line had referred to Celebrian's death, when the sword was bequeathed to the Elf-maiden Elenriel, her sister. The second line, they discerned, referred to Elenriel's stand at the bridge of Ithilduin, where she had tried to hold back the host of Mordor from conquering the valley of Minas Ithil. The lines had been a mystery to them, as they didn't know who had written them, or who had foreseen the deaths of Celebrian or Elenriel at the time the sword was made. Nor did the third line, about the maiden's sacrifice, mean anything to them.

Sheathing the sword, Lily blew out the candle and went to bed, opening her mind to Legolas in hopes of seeing him camped with Aragorn and the others. And she did see him, sitting by a fire, laughing companionably with someone outside the range of her sight. But then, the overpowering scent of Celebrian's herb filled her senses, and she heard her father's voice—Elrond's voice—first laughing, which she had seldom heard her father do, and then saying with teasing affection to someone, "So you are a seer and a poet, as well?" The moment faded, and although Lily tried to reach Elrond with her thoughts, the barrier around Rivendell was as strong as it had been in these recent days of danger to the Elves and all their creations in Middle Earth. The words she had heard her father speak must have been spoken long ago, or would be spoken in the future. To her? She couldn't say—but somehow she didn't think the words were meant for her, although she had the gift of sight and a gift for poetry, as well. She pondered the matter for a while, then allowed herself to drift into the dream of sleep.

The next morning, Lily went to the archives as soon as she could, only tacitly agreeing with Sarrose's warning that she not work too hard. She went to the old archivist and asked him about collections of poetry in the archives. "Well," the man said, rubbing his fingers against his wispy white hair as if to activate a part of his brain, "Of course we have a lot of poetry in the archives. Even some Elvish poetry, my lady. But you've probably seen all of that."

Lily explained that she had not expected to find, nor had she looked for Elvish poetry in the archives of Gondor. "The Elves usually commit poetry to memory," she said.

"Yes, and what a shame," the archivist murmured. "When one of you is lost or leaves Middle Earth, the poetry can be lost to us." He rubbed his head again and looked up at her. "That's why our collection is so unusual. Your mother's sister, Lady Elenriel, wrote down a lot of poetry and when she—ahh—"

"Died," Lily said.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," the old man said. "No. When she went off to fight with the Rangers in Ithilien, she gave some of her poetry books to the archives. I'm surprised you haven't seen them. They're in Elvish, of course, so we need to get a translator in here—should have done years ago—are you sure you haven't seen them?"

"Yes, sir," Lily said, calling on all her patience and finding it a chore. "May I please see them now?"

The archivist shuffled away and brought four slender volumes to the table where Lily sat. He reminded her, as every archivist had done in the long ages since she had been coming to Gondor, of the special, careful handling required for the older items in the archives, and then went back to his desk. Three of the volumes were in Elenriel's handwriting, which Lily recognized from the journal Rohesa had found in her room, and contained traditional poems and songs of the Elves that Elenriel had apparently copied from memory—the Lay of Lúthien and other settings of events in history such as the hiding of Valinor and the story of the Silmarils. All these were familiar to Lily and she could have recited them from memory. But the fourth book was in a different hand. Inside the front cover—decorated with flowers and leaves of mithril (Lily wondered if the archivist knew what a treasure the book cover was)—she saw an inscription in the poet's handwriting: "To my sister Elenriel, who will not hear these sung in Rivendell, with my love."

Lily felt as though her heart stopped for a moment. _My sister Elenriel. _These poems were by Lily's mother, Celebrian, and with sorrow and anger Lily realized that she had never heard them sung in Rivendell, either. Her mother had been a poet and she had not heard her songs—did not know if they were ever sung in Rivendell after Celebrian's death, or if Elrond had forbidden it in his grief. Holding back her own grief, Lily turned to the title page. _The Visions of Celebrian. _Her mother had the gift of sight and the gift of poetry. Leafing through the few pages of the book—there may have been only about ten poems, some of them brief—Lily read of a baby who fell down a waterfall in a basket of herbs protected by the power of the Elves. That baby had been Lily, when her mother saved her from the attacking Orcs that captured Celebrian, although there was nothing about Orcs in the poem. Celebrian must have written what she saw in vision before the events occurred; she would not have been able to write the poem as history after her torture by the Orcs. Perhaps Celebrian's sight had not extended to her own fate, or Celebrian had been unwilling to write about it. And then Lily found a poem called "The Sword." After describing with lovely imagery the blade and the runes on it, Celebrian had written the following verse in a different tone and meter, as though the sword were speaking:

_At the death of the mother, I go to the maiden:_

_Exile from home in defense of the moon._

_At the death of the maiden, I stand at the bridge:_

_Lost to the maiden but not lost to hope._

_Restored to the daughter, defender of love,_

_Her fall into darkness made like a new birth:_

_The power of healing as great as love's hope;_

_The power beyond the sword or the ruin._

_At the maiden's sacrifice, I restore the valley:_

_With the maiden's love, I restore the moon._

_I think I'm the daughter. I think this is about me, _Lily thought. _I tried to defend those I love at the Battle of Helm's Deep, and on the Pelennor Field—and I fell into darkness, and woke feeling like a new person. Restored to life, _she thought, _but to what purpose? _She bowed her head in the gloom of the archives, her hands on Celebrian's book. She closed it and held it to her heart. _I am the maiden who must make the sacrifice and restore the valley and the moon. _The valley of the moon—Minas Ithil. Now the dread Minas Morgul, the way Frodo and Sam took into Mordor, and possibly the way out of the Black Land, if not for Frodo and Sam, then perhaps for something evil. Could any of the hosts of Sauron escape through the high pass? Could they escape the destruction of the One Ring, to hide and grow strong, to bring evil to Middle Earth yet again? She saw the deathly valley in her mind, the place from whence the Nazgûl had set forth to enslave Men by destroying Minas Tirith and all it stood for. Lily carefully replaced the book on the table and saw an additional design now gleaming in the mithríl among the decorations on the book's cover—a sword piercing a crescent moon. Leaving the book in the archives, she ran to the House of Elenriel and to her room.

"Say, my lady, what are you doing?" Rohesa said. "Did you find something in the archives? Are you all right?"

Lily drew her finest gown from her pack, the royal blue dress she had worn to Theoden King's victory feast at Helm's Deep. "Forgive me, Rohesa; I must leave your house."

"Now, Lady Elanor, you mustn't excite yourself. Let me send for Sarrose; she'll know what to do."

"I cannot wait. I must go to Mordor."

Rohesa backed away from the room, holding out her hands as though to stop her guest. "Oh no, my lady; you mustn't go. The Master of the Houses of Healing let you leave only to come here. I'm sure you can't go to battle yet, and you can't ride off to Mordor alone, I—I—I have to get Sarrose."

The woman turned quickly as Lily said, "I don't go to battle. But I must go."

"As you say, my lady," Rohesa said and ran awkwardly from the house.

Lily washed quickly, braided her hair back from her face, and dressed. She placed a thin circlet of mithril around her head; a small, blue stone shone from its center. She girded the sword Celebrian at her waist and took up her bow and arrows. Thanking Sarrose in her mind for replenishing her healing kit, Lily picked up her pack and ran quickly from the House of Elenriel, down the levels of Minas Tirith to the stables. She was not surprised to find that it was difficult for her to run so far—after all, she had been injured, deathly ill, and in bed for a time—but it bothered her not to have the strength she had been accustomed to in Lórien and during all her travels. Nevertheless, she approached the Keeper of the Stables and calmly requested that Snowstar be brought to her. The man obeyed, looking with awe on the beautiful Elf-maiden in her flowing gown, the front of her blue-black hair braided back and the rest shimmering down behind her, her simple circlet and the stone on her brow shining in the Sun of Gondor's day. She stroked Snowstar's neck as the horse followed the Keeper from the stables and the white horse whickered a greeting in return. Lily sprang lightly to the horse's back and, thanking the Keeper, turned toward the gate of the city. As she rode out, nodding to the guards, she thought she heard Sarrose calling after her—but she could not stop to discuss her plans. As soon as she was clear of the gate, she asked Snowstar to run across the plain to Osgiliath and the bridge that would lead her to fulfill her mother's poetic vision.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Lily rode quickly along the rode that led east from Osgiliath to the Crossroads of Ithilien. Behind her rode two men of Gondor, tasked by the head of the garrison of Osgiliath to accompany her, despite her protest that she needed no attendants or guards. But they were the price she paid for passage across the Great River Anduin on the ferry from Osgiliath to the eastern shore. The head of the garrison was unwilling to prevent her from taking her journey—after all, her fame as a warrior was known to all and she was a commanding presence, as well as a friend of Aragorn and Gandalf and the other leaders who had set out for Mordor only a day or two earlier—but he would not let her go alone. In truth, Lily believed that her "guards," as she thought of them, just slowed her down, but they were brave soldiers who did not turn back even when she told them that she was going to the Morgul Vale. They had camped one night to rest the horses and the Men—Lily was not at full strength, but would have kept going had she been alone. She ate little of the food that her escorts offered to share with her and was up before dawn to continue her journey, with the men struggling to keep up with Snowstar and the Elf-maiden they had been charged to protect.

"Please don't worry about me," she had said as they sat by the campfire. "The forces of Mordor are gathered to its defense and will not trouble our road; no doubt we will come upon allies as we travel." And they did—they met a messenger who had been sent with tidings for Lord Faramir of the progress of the army of the West toward the Black Gate, and when they came to the Crossroads, a party of Men were restoring the stone statue of the king that had been defaced and beheaded by Orcs. They welcomed Lily and her escort, but were alarmed when she announced that she was going to Minas Morgul. She refused to be dissuaded, or to take additional Men with her, although two requested to be added to her escort. "Numbers will not help us," Lily tried to explain. "We go to prevent anyone from escaping Mordor through the Morgul Vale, but we will not require an army."

The Men murmured as Lily led her escort east from the Crossroads the next morning, and after raising her hand in token of farewell, she urged the men and horses to haste. She could sense a disturbance in Mordor, but had no idea if it boded good or ill. She only knew that some task lay before her in the ruined Valley of the Moon.

They went as far as Lily thought wise and camped for the night. She warned her escort not to drink from the stream that ran from the Morgul Vale. They camped a short distance from the entrance to the valley, foregoing a fire, and could see the sickly green glow that emanated from the place. Elanor spent the night pondering the words of her mother's poem:

_At the maiden's sacrifice, I restore the valley:_

_With the maiden's love, I restore the moon._

What sacrifice would she be required to make, she wondered. Her life? If necessary, but she didn't want that to be the case and didn't see how the valley could be restored by her death. And what did it mean for the valley to be restored? Certainly she had no power to reverse the loathsome changes that years of rule by the Nazgûl had inflicted on the land and water and all the life in the valley.

Dawn came in a haze of smoke and uneasiness—clouds were once again spreading from the heart of Mordor. Elanor wondered if the Army of the West had reached the Black Gate, or if Frodo and Sam were anywhere near Mount Doom and fulfillment of their quest to destroy the Ring. She told the men who had joined her at Osgiliath that she wished they would go no further, but they refused to leave her. They left the horses packed and ready at the camp and walked the last paces to the entrance of Minas Morgul.

The place seemed to be sleeping, although tension was so thick in the air that it was as though someone were continually plucking a high-pitched string on a harp. Elanor crept forward, careful to stay near the center of the road and to avoid touching anything. Still, the vibration was ever faster and louder, and as she approached the bridge that led to the tower gates she put her hand on her sword hilt. The sickening fields with their foul flora seemed to vibrate as well, and the ghastly castle of the Nazgûl to lean forward with menace. When the vibrations seemed about to burst her ears, and the Men of Osgiliath fell back in pain, she felt the time had come. Drawing her sword, she walked onto the bridge and held it high, facing the Tower of Minas Morgul, and called into the noisome, sickly valley:

"I am Elanor Tindómiel, daughter of Celebrian and Elrond of Rivendell, and here is the sword of Celebrian and of Elenriel! I come to restore Minas Ithil, the Tower of the Moon, and the Valley of Ithilien! All evil be gone from this place! None will escape Mordor through this vale!"

Minas Morgul seemed to stretch up to the sky, as though to overshadow her, and the bridge shook. The Men of Osgiliath cried out, but Elanor stood firm, and her eyes were drawn to the high peaks above the valley to the north. In the sky above them a pillar of cloud and fire rose, and the world seemed to shake. She stood steady and raised the Sword of Celebrian higher, where it caught a faint reflection of the pillar of fire and reflected it toward the evil tower. The sword grew warm in her hand.

_This is the sacrifice, _Elanor knew. _I must sacrifice the sword, and with it my place as one who wields any sword. It is not only that we will not face battle here; I will never again face battle anywhere. I am a Healer; I will be a Mother. And the Sword of Celebrian will restore the Valley of the Moon._

Quickly she pulled the sword down to her lips and kissed the place where the blade met the hilt. She grasped it with both hands and raised it above her head. "Celebrian for Gondor! Celebrian for Minas Ithil!" she called. Turning, swinging around on the bridge a few times, Lily let the sword fly with all her strength toward the looming tower of Minas Morgul. It struck the face of the tower with a clear, ringing sound that vibrated through the valley, damping the tense, string-like vibration that had filled the air before and replacing it with a sound like the high tolling of a silver bell. Elanor turned and ran, grabbing the arms of the two men who had come with her. "We must flee!" she cried, and dragged them towards their camp. Soon, they were running on their own and mounted their horses moments after Elanor jumped on Snowstar's back and turned to look back at the Morgul Vale. A lick of white fire had started in the center of the tower where the sword had struck and was spreading rapidly outward and upward, following the bell-like sound in concentric waves throughout the valley and up the sides of the surrounding mountains. The valley was being cleansed.

The earth shook more and the cloud rising from Mordor began to spread out into the sky. "Fly!" she called, but reined in Snowstar so that she followed her escort as their mounts carried them toward the Crossroads. As they rode, Lily's heart grew light and she saw as in vision the destruction of Mount Doom behind her; Sam was leading Frodo away from the fiery mountain. "How will they escape?" she thought, and immediately the vision shifted to a great battle at the Black Gate of Mordor, where she saw Legolas fighting beside Gandalf and Aragorn, and even Pippin battling some gigantic monster with his small Hobbit-sword that had been a dagger for a Man of long ago Just as her vision faded, she heard a call, "The Eagles are coming!" and she knew that Frodo and Sam would be rescued from the destruction of Mordor.

"My lady!" One of her escort called. He had stopped to look back and stared amazed as the cloud in the skies above Mordor began to dissipate and patches of blue sky appeared above the Mountains of Shadow for the first time in the memories of living Men. Lily slowed and turned to look, and then smiled at the two men.

"What did you do?" one of them asked.

"My part was a small one," she said. "What you see is the result of the bravery of the Halfings, and of the Army of the West."

"But what about your sword, my lady?"

"Gone," Lily said. "Even a sword can have a destiny, as you know from the story of the Sword that was Broken, now the Flame of the West, with which the Lord Aragorn has helped to defeat the Dark Lord. Celebrian's sword has fulfilled its destiny."

They resumed their ride toward the Crossroads, the two men talking, and Lily following behind them, silent. She leaned down to rest her head on Snowstar's neck and let the horse follow the others. She was surprised to find herself weeping a little. She felt light; the sheath of Celebrian's Sword seemed empty of more than the blade. When they reached the Crossroads at dusk, the Men there greeted them with curiosity. Lily shared the news of the destruction of Minas Morgul, as well as her vision of the destruction of Mordor and her certainty of victory for the Army of the West. There was much rejoicing in the camp. Lily was happy as well, but soon retired to rest and to ponder the events of the day.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"What are you thinking?" Legolas asked.

"I'm thinking that I'm too comfortable and things are too easy," Lily said.

Her husband laughed. "Well, I'm not going to stir up trouble to make you feel better," he said, kissing the tip of her nose and arranging the blanket around her. They were in a flet that he had built in a tree just outside and above Minas Tirith, not far from where Aragorn had found the sapling of the White Tree. Lily and Legolas had been there since their wedding and the celebration two days earlier, enjoying the Elvish foods and comforts that had been brought for the purpose from Rivendell and Lórien and the additional provisions supplied by the royal cooks and household of Minas Tirith.

"I believe we have been invited to dine with King Aragorn and Queen Arwen," Legolas said, "If that disturbs your peace at all."

"So soon we are called to duty? That is disturbing, my lord, although hardly equal to facing the hosts of Mordor or the Paths of the Dead."

"No," Legolas said, sobering for a moment and then smiling. "But we are not expected for a time."

Lily looked around the flet. "I suppose that after living in the House of Elenriel when I was younger, I should be used to the idea of living in a house in Minas Tirith," she said, "But I still think that a flet is the best place to live."

"You may not think so when it snows, or when we have to tramp back and forth to the highest level of the city to serve Aragorn and Arwen as we should," Legolas said. "We will be fine in a house. But I think we should leave the flet here, for times when we want to get away and be the two of us together."

The meal was in part a feast to celebrate the betrothal of Faramir and Éowyn and in part a farewell feast, because a large party would be departing for Rohan on the morrow. Celeborn, Galadriel, and Elrond would travel as far as Rohan and then turn toward their homes in Lórien and Rivendell; Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin would do the same but then turn toward the Shire, accompanied by Gandalf. Éomer was returning to Rohan as its king; his first duty would be to lay Theoden King to rest among the other kings of Rohan. Faramir and Éowyn were also going to Rohan to honor Theoden King, and Legolas and Lily would represent Aragorn there. But they would not remain long, for after Éowyn and Faramir were wed in the Golden Hall of Meduseld, they would return briefly to Minas Tirith before assuming their duties as Lord and Lady of Ithilien. Legolas and Lily would accompany them to Ithilien so that Lily could help restore Minas Ithil. But they were not to remain long, as Aragorn wanted Legolas as his close counselor, and Arwen wished to spend time with her sister. And in any case, Lily wondered if she would be needed in Minas Ithil—according to reports, not long after the fire that had been sparked by the Sword of Celebrian and had cleansed the vale, sprouts of healing, healthy plants and trees had begun to appear and to grow at an unusual rate. Lily's chief, and perhaps only, task was to take a cutting from the bush of Celebrian's herb that grew in the Garden of Elenriel, plant it in the valley, and see that it took root.

"I am sorry that your parents could not stay longer—it seems they arrived for the wedding and then had to leave almost immediately," Lily said, stroking Legolas' fair hair back from his forehead. "I like them very much, and wish I could have come to know them better."

"Father believed he is needed in the Northern Realm—many evil things were already awake in Mirkwood, even before the Dark Lord's growing strength cut it off from the world," Legolas said, studying his bride's deep blue eyes. "And Father and Mother feel that they have known you all your life; apparently I was not particularly subtle about my interest in our hoped-for mutual future after we returned from Lórien that first time."

"But that was so long ago."

"They've paid attention all this time, although I'm sure they were surprised by all your adventures since we met again in Lórien when I came with the Fellowship. I don't think they expected you to grow up to wield a sword or a bow as well as their son, or to fight beside him. We will visit them sometime, I'm sure. They think I've married well."

"I believe that I have married well, too, Prince Legolas. And all my family are pleased with my new husband."

"What a wonderful thing to be called," Legolas took Lily into his arms. "I am so happy to be your husband."

After a sumptuous meal, Aragorn stood and welcomed his guests once again. "And yet the time has also come to say farewell," he said. His face, which had seemed so resolute and weary in the last days of the War of the Ring, was now relaxed and even youthful, despite his years of labor in obscurity to do his part in the victory over Sauron. "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lórien and Lord Elrond of Rivendell will soon take their leave of us, having witnessed their granddaughters and daughters married—long may they grace our fair city of Minas Tirith," he continued, placing a hand on Arwen's shoulder, who smiled up at him from her seat by his side. "No less will we mourn the homegoing of our dearest Hobbit friends, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, although it pleases us to know that they will be accompanied by Gandalf the White for much of their journey. Alas, the Fellowship of the Ring was only briefly reunited on the Field of Cormallen, for our beloved Gimli left this morning to meet a company of Dwarves at Helm's Deep, there to aid the Men of Rohan in opening the vistas of its caves to the light, where they can be appreciated by all those of good will."

Legolas leaned over to Lily and whispered. "I promised Gimli we'd come and see the caves, you know."

"Yes; we will—as soon as we can," she replied, taking his hand beneath the table.

Aragorn spoke further. "And I fear the time has come when Éomer King of Rohan and his sister, the Lady Éowyn, will accompany our much-loved Theoden King to his resting place in Rohan, and with them will travel Prince Faramir, betrothed of Lady Éowyn, and our trusted counselor Prince Legolas, and his wife, Lady Elanor of Lórien. And so we shall be bereft of so many brave friends, with joy in the knowledge that many of us will soon meet again. I have no grander way to say what I wish than to offer you my deepest thanks and love, and that of Queen Arwen, and to wish you safe journeys."

"Hear, hear!" Pippin said. "A fine speech. Are there more of those sweets they served at the end of the meal?"

"I'm sure there are," Arwen said, smiling and gesturing to a serving man. "As many as a Knight of the Tower could want."

"There aren't that many," Merry said, to the amusement of all.

The next morning witnessed a scene at the gates of Minas Tirith that the guards would speak of for years: the farewell of the great Elves of Lórien and Rivendell by Queen Arwen. The ways of the Elves and of the travelers to the Shire lay together with that of the travelers to Rohan, but Arwen would remain with Aragorn in Minas Tirith.

"Will you come again to Gondor, dearest Father?" Arwen asked, tears coursing down her cheeks as she embraced Elrond.

"I do not believe I will," Elrond answered. "I long to go to the Grey Havens, Daughter. I do not know how long it will be before the Last Homely House grows dark and the Elves of Rivendell take their final journey, but I do not think it will be long. And even so, there is much to do in Rivendell to repair the depredations of evil in that part of Middle Earth."

"And much to do in Lórien, as well," Galadriel said, taking Arwen in her embrace. "Many wounds to be healed, and our time here wanes."

No one said what they thought, that Lily and Legolas would see all their Elvish kin someday in Valinor, but that Arwen would remain in Middle Earth. And so Arwen's grief was great, although not as great as her love for Aragorn.

At long last, but still before the Sun had risen in the newly clear skies to the East, the Elves set forth with the large party of travelers to Rohan and the bier of Theoden King to ride through the Pelennor Field and back along the way the Riders of Rohan had come to aid the besieged city. The trip to Rohan seemed long in comparison to that crucial ride. But Lily did not find it tiresome—she had brought Sarrose of the Houses of Healing with her as an attendant, and as a result, Éomer King spent as almost as much time at their fireside as he did at his own, and was quick to point out landmarks of their earlier journey and to tell of the Riders of Rohan, with Sarrose, Frodo, and Sam as especially willing listeners.

"Do you think Éomer is in love with Sarrose?" Legolas asked Lily as he unbraided and brushed her hair inside their tent one evening as they prepared to retire.

"I think he is," Lily said. "She has confessed that she admires him greatly, not just as a king or a hero in battle, but as a person—and her mother was from Rohan, you know. She would be a fine wife. And Rohesa would be thrilled to her toes."

"Do you think the people of Rohan—or anyone else—will care that she is not of a royal family?"

"I think perhaps not," Lily said. "In these times, when so much of more importance has been lost and won, her deeds as a Healer and her strength of character give her all the recommendation the people of Rohan could desire. And certainly they do not want to see their king alone and unhappy, if he can find love with Sarrose. I have come to appreciate her very much—she desires to learn all that she can of the ways of Elves, and of the Hobbits, and of the long history that led to the last alliance of Elves and Men and the unmaking of the One Ring. She seems a steady young woman—and she is learning to ride like a true woman of Rohan. I think she will make a fine wife for Éomer and a fine queen."

"The royal house of Rohan seems diminished, in any case," Legolas said. "I do not know where Éomer is to look for a bride there. And Sarrose seems worthy in every respect."

And so the travelers watched and rejoiced as the friendship between Éomer and Sarrose seemed to deepen during the journey. Sarrose spoke to Lily of her delight in the relationship, and Éomer was frequently seen in serious conversation with Éowyn and Faramir, but nothing could be said or done properly on the road, or before Éomer had taken his place before his people as Rohan's king after the funeral rites for Theoden King had been completed.

Although they had repeatedly been offered the hospitality of Rohan, the Lords of the Elves, the Hobbits, and Gandalf did not go to Meduseld but said farewell to their companions when the road divided and went north through Rohan toward Caradhras and the Dimrill Stair, by which Galadriel and Celeborn would make their way to Lórien. Elrond would continue with Gandalf and the Hobbits as far as the Great East Road, where he and his companions would turn toward Rivendell and others would turn west toward Bree and the Shire. And so another parting took place not far beyond Dunharrow.

Lily remembered her first meeting with the Hobbits, when they came to Lórien after the tragic loss of Gandalf to the Balrog in the Mines of Moria. They had been so tired and spent with grief, but so much had happened since that day—Merry and Pippin were seasoned warriors, with the strength and growth that had come from much more experience than just the draughts of the Ents. Sam was still Frodo's faithful servant, but his experiences had turn him from a youth into a wise adult, without diminishing his sense of humor or his wonder at the great things of the world. While he had become familiar with Legolas and Lily, he still held the other Elves in awe, especially Galadriel. And Frodo—Frodo had a quality that was almost impossible to define, as though he had been refined by the fires of Mount Doom and the most precious aspects of his character revealed.

"You will come to the Shire and visit us?" Sam asked Legolas and Lily as the travelers prepared to say goodbye. "And do you think the Elves—even the Elves from Rivendell and Lórien—will come to the Shire on their way to the Grey Havens? Oh, not for many years, I hope. But I can't bear the thought that I will never see Elves again."

"Of course you will see Elves, again, Sam—you are an Elf-friend," Legolas said. "When you want to spend some time in company with Elves, take an evening walk by Woody End. Frodo will go with you. I'm sure you'll see many Elves there, and they will be honored to meet you."

"That will be nice," Frodo said, "But we will want to see our friends among the Elves—you and others we know from our travels. Although I should not wish it, for that would mean that you are on your way to the ships, and leaving Middle Earth forever."

"I'm thinking we may want to leave from the Bay of Belfalas," Legolas said. "When the time comes—I can't help but remember the bright Sun of the Southern Lands, and the cry of the gulls."

"Those ships will take you home, as well," Galadriel said, and turned to the West, raising her arms to the setting Sun. She sang softly,

_Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,_

_In Eressia, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,_

_Where the leaves fall not—land of my people forever!_

She lowered her hands to her side. "I think you have heard that song, Legolas."

"I have, my lady," he said. "But I turned to my duty to Aragorn, and my love for Lily, and away from those sweet voices until they call me again."

"Which may be some time, as Aragorn prizes your counsel," Celeborn said. "But we shall meet again, dear grandson and granddaughter."

"We shall, and so I will not grieve at this parting," Lily said, although the tears in her eyes belied her statement. "Legolas and I hope to see the great waterfalls of Rivendell and the golden woods of Lórien ere they fade and you are gone away, my beloved ones." She embraced her father and her grandparents, and knelt before the Hobbits and embraced each of them as well, and kissed Frodo in his forehead. "And you, dear friends—we shall come to the Shire to see you, I have great hope."

"You seem to be planning a lot of travels," Gandalf said raising Lily up and enfolding her in his arms. "Perhaps you will find an old Wizard along the road."

"Where will you go, Mithrandír?" Legolas asked.

"For now, with the Hobbits, in case they find more trouble before they can get back to the Shire."

Lily looked far away to the North, and caught a glimpse in her mind of a village of comfortable houses with round doors, but with trees cut down and sorrow on the faces of people she knew to be Hobbits.

"I hope we find the Shire as we left it," Merry said.

"So do I," Sam said, and looked sadly at Galadriel, who returned his sorrowful glance.

"The darkness of these times has reached into every corner of Middle Earth," the Lady said, "But I do not doubt that the Shire will ultimately be cleansed of that influence, and you will find peace in your homes and among your friends."

"If I find peace anywhere, that will be the place," Frodo said, clasping his hands to his heart.

"Come now, this should be a fond farewell after all we have been through," Gandalf said, "And we must let these people get to Meduseld before sunset. The days grow colder and shorter. Here, Shadowfax," he said, and mounted lightly on the great steed's back. The Hobbits bowed low and the others took their leave with courtesy and affection, and soon the travelers to Rohan watched as their companions disappeared briskly on their road.

"Well, friends, shall we try to see Meduseld in the last glow of sunset?" Éomer said, and turned to Sarrose. "The Golden Hall is a fine and welcome sight—even more so, I'm sure, since Lord Legolas and Lady Elanor scrubbed the roof."

"What?" Sarrose replied, humor and disbelief in her voice. And so the road to Meduseld went quickly as Éomer told the story of how the people of Rohan had come home from Helm's Deep and set their city to rights. Those watching the approaches to Rohan sent messages to the city and the travelers were met by crowds of people, who had learned from returning Riders of Rohan and messengers sent from Minas Tirith of the great events of the last few weeks. They soberly lined the roads in respect for Theoden King, but after the bier and its honor guard passed, they quietly called their greetings and support to Éomer King, and their congratulations to Éowyn, who looked beautiful and calm as she rode between her brother and her betrothed. The Golden Hall did not disappoint as its roof gleamed in the setting Sun, and the party was welcomed as befitted royalty to Meduseld and the kingdom of Rohan.

The days passed swiftly as all attended to the funeral rites for Theoden King, a period of mourning, the coronation of Éomer King, and the wedding of Faramir and Éowyn, joyful as she left her place at her brother's side and took her place beside her husband according to the tradition of Rohan. The years, as reckoned by Men, seemed to pass swiftly for Lily and Legolas as they served in Ithilien and in Minas Tirith and saw an heir, Arwen and Aragorn's son Eldarion, born to the House of Telcontar. They returned to Rohan, escorting Sarrose to her place as the bride of Éomer King, and were happy to see a new time dawn in that kingdom as the people welcomed their new queen. Rohesa, as mother of the bride, was almost as happy as her daughter, and to see her home country again. Legolas and Lily returned to Helm's Deep and Gimli showed them through his beautiful caves, which they duly admired. Messages came from the Shire and they knew that the Hobbits were thriving.

After seeing all settled in Gondor and the South, Legolas and Lily traveled to Lórien, Rivendell, and the Northern Kingdom to bid farewell, for a season, to their loved ones among the Elves, for almost all had gone to the Grey Havens or to the Bay of Belfalas and the rest would soon be leaving. The golden mallorn trees in Lórien seemed to have dimmed, as had the warmth of the Last Homely House in the vale of Rivendell. The descendants of the Beornings and the Men of Dale had the safety of Mirkwood well in hand. Lily and Legolas tried not to mourn the passage of their kin from Middle Earth, or even of Gandalf and Bilbo and Frodo, for they were taking the ship from the Grey Havens along with Elrond, Celeborn, and Galadriel. Legolas and Lily returned to Gondor with heavy hearts, knowing that they were among the last Elves in Middle Earth.

At last the day came when Aragorn, King of the West, called his most faithful counselor, Prince Legolas of the Northern Realm, and his wife, Lady Elanor of Lórien, to the formal audience chamber of Minas Tirith. Aragorn's hair was streaked with white, but he stood as tall and straight as ever, and his eyes were undimmed. Queen Arwen Evenstar, who looked wiser and kinder, but otherwise as beautiful and youthful as she had in her younger days in Rivendell, sat on a throne near her husband, with their son standing next to her.

"Come, my friends," Aragorn said. "This formality seemed necessary to what we have to tell you. Although there are many years yet remaining to us," he continued, taking Arwen's hand and smiling at her, "we have decided that it is no longer a kindness to you and no longer needful to the kingdom to keep you from going to your home. I know the sea has called Legolas from the time he saw the gulls wheeling above the lands to the South, so long ago."

"Oh!" Legolas exclaimed, and Lily saw in his eyes a longing that she had seen several times before during their lives in Minas Tirith. "But, my king, we are ever at your service."

"As you have ever been, my friend, and it grieves us to see you go, and greatly grieves the queen to bid goodbye to you and to her sister, and yet it seems to us that the time has come for this parting."

"Your wisdom serves us, my king," Lily said, "for only lately have we learned that the house of Legolas is to increase, and it would be well, I feel, for my son and daughter to be born in Valinor, for Middle Earth shall never be their home."

"Lily!" Arwen said, rising and going to embrace her sister. "Twins?"

"That is what I have foreseen," Lily said. "Although I wish that they could know the great king and queen for whom they will be named. But we will tell them all about their aunt and uncle."

"A son and a daughter?" Aragorn said, going to clasp Legolas' hand.

"Aragorn and Arwen," Legolas said. "Your names shall always be known among the Elves."

It was a matter of only two weeks before Legolas and Lily set out for the North, for their path would take them through the Shire and to the Grey Havens, as there was one last task to be done there. Lily and Arwen had taken long walks through the fields and woods surrounding Minas Tirith in the days before they parted, and all who saw them wondered at the sisters, shimmering like stars in the hours of dusk and dawn as they spoke to one another's hearts the things that only they could share. Aragorn and Eldarion similarly spent time with Legolas, gleaning all the wisdom and cheer they could from the Elf's mind and heart during their last times together. But finally Legolas rode up the Greenway on Mithroch, a great dark-grey horse of the Mearas of Rohan, who suffered himself to pull behind him a palfrey in which Lily rode. They came to Hobbiton on an October night when Remmirath, the Netted Stars, was high above them and Menelvagor, the Swordsman of the Sky, with red Borgil at his belt, shone at the eastern horizon. Their horse clopped softly up the road to Bag End, where Sam's daughter greeted them in the warm light that spilled from the door, sending her son to tend to Mithroch as she welcomed the Elves to the fireside. There sat an old, wizened Hobbit with a small box in his hand, staring at the fire with a sad look on his face, but as soon as the Elves entered the room they saw his cheerful smile and knew their friend, Sam Gamgee.

"Lady Elanor! Legolas! Here you are at last, come to visit the Shire as you promised so long ago!" he exclaimed, putting the box in his pocket as he stood to welcome them.

"Please, Sam; don't get up!" Lily said, going to lean down and hug the Hobbit. "How well you look!"

"Oh, I've gotten old," Sam said. "But look at you two! You'd think not a day had passed since we parted in Rohan!" He and Legolas embraced as companions greeting each other again after many years, remembering all they had been through in their time together. "Ellie, bring the drinks and food, and where's that husband of yours? Bell—his name's Bellflower, but he prefers Bell—has wanted to meet some Elves since he was just a boy. Here, sit down, sit down, before you knock your tall heads on the rafters."

Lily and Legolas sat by the fire with Sam, and soon Ellie and Bell and their sons, Tom and Three, whose name was really Frodo the Third after his Uncle Frodo and "The Frodo," as he was often called, came in with food and drink. A table was pulled over to the fire and the Elves had dinner while the others joined them in a "bedtime snack, to be companionable."

"My daughters will be over to meet you tomorrow," Ellie said. "They can't wait to meet the real Lady Elanor."

"Well, you're the real Lady Elanor of the Hobbits," Sam said. "Your mother and I named you after her—although 'Elanor' seemed a bit grand for everyday use, so we've just called her Ellie all these years."

"I understand," Lily said. "I've almost always been called 'Lily.'" They laughed and talked until late, when Ellie showed the Elves to a room where bedding had been laid out for them, the beds being too short for Elvish comfort. So Lily and Legolas began a few days' stay in Hobbiton, although their presence was not known except to Sam's family.

"So you're a grandfather, Sam," Legolas said one evening as he and Lily walked with the Hobbit through the woods near Bag End.

"Yes, and proud of them all. Rosie was, too—you know I lost her three years ago," Sam said. "She'd have been so honored to have Elves staying in the house."

"We're honored to be here," Lily said. "It's so good to see you again, Sam."

"Well, the family's all I've got now, and I'm feeling like a grandfather—maybe a great-great-grandfather some days. You know Merry and Pippin aren't with us any more, and of course Mr. Frodo and Gandalf went off on the ship at the Grey Havens, with Mr. Bilbo and all." Sam pulled the little, old box from his pocket. "This is the box the Lady Galadriel gave me, with the seed in it, the one that grew the Party Tree again as a Golden Tree, and with the dust from her garden that we used to bring back the Shire after we got home and so much bad had been done—you heard about that?"

"Oh, yes," Legolas said. "You are heroes of the Shire."

"I wish you'd been here to help—that would have staggered everyone. But it's all healed now. I've wondered sometimes if I outlived everyone because some of the dust from the Lady's garden got on me or I carried it around so long," Sam said. "You'd think that for all the fright I got on the journey, it would have scared some years off my life. But here I am, and that's a fact."

"Here you are, Sam, and I'm sorry it's taken us so long to get to the Shire," Lily said. "Your home and family are beautiful, and the Shire is as wonderful as you and Frodo and Merry and Pippin always described it."

"You should have come sooner," Sam said. "Some years ago, you'd have met some of your kin in these woods, you know. This is where I first met Elves, with Mr. Bilbo." He sighed. "I love it here, but I've missed being with Elves. Such wonderful songs! Always took to the Elves, I did."

"And Elves to you, Sam," Lily said.

"We've come, Sam, because we're on our way to the Grey Havens, Lily and I," Legolas said.

"Oh, I know—I can hardly bear to think of you gone, too—and me here, still in the Shire—much as I love it—but feeling like it's time to move on, you know, sometimes, especially in the autumn. Mr. Frodo and I left the Shire in October, all those years ago. I wouldn't go through all that again for anything, but it was what you'd call a 'grand adventure.'"

"Perhaps it's time for another grand adventure, Sam," Legolas said. "That is, if you think you are ready to move on—to leave the Shire—Lady Galadriel suggested long ago that great gardeners are always welcome across the Sea."

Sam turned and looked at them, wondering. "You mean—go with you? Oh, my. Could that be what you mean?"

"That's what we mean, Samwise Gamgee," Legolas said, putting his arm around the Hobbit's shoulders. "If that's what you want."

"You were a Ring-bearer, Sam. Without you, Frodo would not have been able to fulfill the Quest of Mount Doom and destroy the One Ring. You have been granted a place in Valinor," Lily said. "But if you'd rather stay in the Shire, of course—"

"No—no, I've thought so much lately that I wish—I don't know how to say it. I don't belong in the Shire any more, somehow. Oh, to see the Lady of the Golden Wood again! And Mr. Frodo and Gandalf!" Sam had tears running down his face. He whispered, "Me, going to see Elves and all!"

Lily knelt beside the Hobbit and took his hands in hers. "You can come with us, dear Sam."

Only a few days later, after a large gathering to celebrate Bilbo's and Frodo's mutual birthday, now celebrated as an annual holiday among the Gamgees, Sam left with Lily and Legolas, riding in the palfrey with Lily. He left the little box that that had been made in Lothlórien so long ago to be an heirloom for his family. It sat on the shelf beside Sam's great book, the continuation of Frodo's story of the Hobbits' part in the Great War of the Ring, with a record of all the important events afterward. Lily and Sam spoke of their memories as they rode. Lily shared with Sam the happy news of the son and daughter she and Legolas would welcome after a time, beyond the western Sea. He took her hands and spoke an amazed blessing upon her, laughing at the thought of being honorary uncle to young Aragorn and Arwen in that fair land.

They came to the Grey Havens at evening and saw a small grey ship waiting at the quay. Cirdan the Shipwright was waiting as well, and welcomed them warmly. Legolas whispered to Mithroch to make his way back to Rohan, saw the horse away, and then the three friends walked onto the ship. Cirdan joined them as their pilot and furled the sail to catch the rosy light of sunset. The companions looked back at Middle Earth, lost for a few moments in a rush of memories. Lily raised her hand in token of farewell, and Cirdan nodded approval as the light caught the ring on her finger—the Ring of Galadriel, given to Lily before the Lady of the Golden Wood made her journey to the Grey Havens. Now the last of the three Elven-rings would leave Middle Earth. Lily's voice was like a clear bell as she sang a variation of a verse that the Elves had sung:

_O Lórien! Too long I dwelt upon this Hither Shore_

_And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor._

_But now of one last ship I sing; the ship has come to me,_

_The ship to bear me ever back across so wide a Sea._

_For now I stand beneath the sail that takes me to the West,_

_To meet again the friends and those whom I have loved the best,_

_To be with my dear husband and the children who shall come_

_To bless us with the joy of new life in our Elvenhome._

_Our memories of Middle Earth will never fade or tire;_

_Nor will our love for those whose joy is all our hearts' desire—_

_But comes the hour of parting and we could desire no more_

_Than life beneath the sun- and starlit heav'ns of Valinor._

_O Lórien! Too long I dwelt upon this hither shore._

Legolas said to Cirdan, "Let us cast off," and the companions turned their gaze toward the sea as their vessel slipped past the harbor entrance and out into the breakers. The Sun shone a last beam above the horizon. They heard the cries of the gulls as though they were already far behind them and smiled as a sweet breeze filled the sail and they tacked to the West. Lily scanned the skies and saw the Evening Star against the indigo of the coming night. Legolas followed her gaze. He put his arm around her as Lily took Sam's hand in her own. Legolas spoke: "Beyond the night, the Morning Star, and sunrise, and home."

_Thus Are Fulfilled the Visions and Prophecies of_

_Lady Elanor Tindómiel of Lórien and Prince Legolas Greenleaf of the Northern Realm._


End file.
